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FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


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SUE ENJOYS A DRIVE WITH HER “PARSLEY-GIRL 




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FROM 

SIOUX TO SUSAN 


BY 

agnes McClelland daulton 

Author of “ Fritzi,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

BESSIE COLLINS PEASE 





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NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1909 


Copyright, 1905, 1906, 1909, by 
The Century Co. 


Published September, 1909 

c. 

248265 ^ 


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J. F. Tapley Co. 


TO 

MY MOTHER 























CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Cherryfair 3 

II. The Revolt of Susan Plenty 23 

III. An Unexpected Meeting 42 

IV. The Parsley Girl 55 

V. Virginia 78 

VI. The Drive 94 

VII. Ripening Friendship 106 

VIII. Getting Ready 125 

IX. A Bit of News 141 

X. Davie to the Rescue 152 

XI. In Memory of a Rose 166 

XII. Virginia's Party 177 

XIII. Hope Hall 195 

XIV. Getting Acquainted 210 

XV. The Owls and the Doves 224 

XVI. Trouble in Number 21 241 

XVII. Sue's Rebellion 257 

XVIII. A Vagrant Repentance 275 

XIX. A Serious Trifle 288 

XX. The End of Sioux 298 

XXI. Mistaken Loyalty 317 

XXII. The Beginning of Susan 332 

vii 




/ 





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Sue enjoys a drive with her “Parsley Girl” Frontispiece 

Around and around they went 13 - 

Sue 33 

She was cutting out a waist for Benny 47 

“I ’ve changed my name to S-i-o-u-x” 57 

“ You see, I wanted it to be just a secret between us two ” . . 75 

Betty, the proper, sat quiet and demure 87 

And doing up her hair with one pin, Virginia rushed to the 

window 119 

Mrs. Marshall was standing in the doorway 137 

“What’s the matter, Sue?” faltered Davie 157 

I could just see Sue Robert’s eyes dance when she opened it . 171 

“Just wait ’til I get a dust of powder on my nose” 183 

“I never felt so funny in my life,” whispered Sue 197 

Virginia and Sue opened their door at the first tap of the 

breakfast bell 213 

The Gay Queen of the Screech Owls sat upon her throne . . 229 

They had tacked up the Indian prints 243 

She was never so frightened in her life 271 

“Perhaps it will come out all right” 281 

The day Virginia’s belated South American Christmas 

gifts arrived 293 

The music-room was all a-buzz when an Indian in a gay 

blanket shuffled in 307 

I was hiding there this morning 329 

“Tell her, Thad,” whispered Virginia 339 


IX 













FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


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FROM 

SIOUX TO SUSAN 


CHAPTER I 

CHERRYFAIR 

C HERRYFAIR had been painted white 
once upon a time, but the long years had 
tempered it to a melancholy gray and toned the 
cheerful shutters to a dull sage-green. Once 
it stood stately and beautiful, with its broad 
verandas and tall chimneys ; but spiteful 
weathers of all sorts had snarled and worried 
and bit at it until, tired out with the battle, it 
had settled down to loneliness, a tumbledown, 
deserted old house. 

But rain and shine, that had played such 
havoc with the house — that being man’s work, 
the weather thought, and only fit to be de- 
stroyed — had nursed and coddled the growing 
things about it. Ivy clothed the old place, 
climbed the roof, and flung green banners even 
from the broken chimney tops; cherry-trees 
garlanded now with white and green, stretched 
great branches toward it; scraggy, untrimmed 
3 


4 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


lilacs tapped the second-story windows with 
their purple clusters ; and an old, twisted 
trumpet-vine mounted the brick wall that edged 
the lawn and curled lovingly about the stone 
balls that crowned the gate posts ; while dande- 
lions and violets pushed their way between the 
cracks in the walk up to the worn stone steps. 

It was the first of May, and the world was 
flooded with sunshine, bird-song, blossoms, and 
all things good; but the dilapidated old house 
drowsed on, and never once dreamed that the 
straggling procession that was making its way 
down the country lane already called it home. 
It was a jolly little procession that stepped to 
the happy music of the warm, green spring, 
and its line of march, under Sue’s leadership, 
took in everything on both sides of the road. 
Betty was trying to keep her steps sedate, with 
her fat little hand tucked under her mother’s 
arm; but Peggy, her twin, hippity-hopped in 
the middle of the road, now with Davie, who 
shied an ineffectual pebble at a squirrel, and 
now with Benny, who pranced like a fractious 
thoroughbred, only to be brought up again by 
Sue’s vigorous calling. Phil whistled as he 
strode thoughtfully along, head thrown back, 
hands in his pockets ; but Sue was everywhere, 
her black eyes dancing, her face alight, her 


CHERRYFAIR 


5 


supple, slender body vibrant with joy. Their 
father — well, Betty said he behaved the worst 
of the lot, since he couldn’t keep from running 
races with Sue, tweaking the twins’ braids, nor 
tucking dandelions back of mother’s ears; for 
somehow, the spring had got into his blood and 
was cutting capers with his dignity. But in 
spite of all this, he was no less a personage than 
the Rev. Albert Warner Roberts, the new 
pastor, who, finding the parsonage at Monroe 
entirely too small for his brood, had been forced 
to rent Cherryfair, a half mile from town, that 
being the only empty house to be found. 

The Robertses had arrived by train that 
morning, quite unexpected by the good people 
of Monroe. It was really a deep-laid scheme 
of Sue’s; leaving the train at the water tank, 
going down back streets and across lots, they 
had managed to evade notice, so that, as Sue 
said — she was always more forceful than ele- 
gant — 4 ‘ they might view their landscape o’er 
without the congregation tagging at their 
heels.” 

“How good the country smells!” exclaimed 
Peggy, sniffing joyfully and hippity-hopping so 
madly her flaxen pigtails waggled behind her. 
“My, but I’m glad there is such a lot of us; 
for if there had n’t been, father would have 


6 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


taken the parsonage, and we would have had to 
live in town. Parsonages are all alike.’ ’ 

“Why, Peggy Roberts, how can you say so?” 
returned Betty, her own step unconsciously for 
a moment falling in with her twin. 4 ‘ The down- 
stairs bedroom is n’t always on the same side of 
the hall, and the brown wall paper is sometimes 
in the parlor and sometimes it is n’t — ” 

“But you very well know,” joggled Peggy 
triumphantly, her breath coming in gasps, 
“there is a downstairs bedroom off a narrow 
hall, and brown paper forever and ever, and 
what is n’t brown is sure to be gray. Other 
folks, except preachers, have wild roses, and 
honeysuckles, and creamy and pink things — ” 
“Mercy on us!” cried Sue, who had just re- 
turned from chasing the little boys down the 
road, her dark hair tossed about her face. 
“Who ever heard a Roberts grumbling about a 
little thing like wall paper? I’m perfectly 
ashamed of you, Peggy. Have n’t we loved 
every roof that covered us, and have n’t we had 
the dandiest times, and are n’t we the jolliest, 
healthiest lot of youngsters? Answer me that, 
Margaret Fulton Roberts,” she demanded, 
pelting the culprit with dandelions. “This is 
just an extra-beautiful time, because we have 
it all to ourselves.” 


CHERRYFAIR 


7 


“I’m afraid,” began Mrs. Roberts, looking 
up at her eldest daughter ruefully , 1 1 I really am 
afraid, Sue — ” 

“Now, Masie, don’t you spoil it all,” broke 
in Sue, popping her brown hand over her little 
mother’s mouth. “Please don’t begin about 
the reception with a brass band, veal loaf and 
lemonade. It ’s got to come, but let it rest in 
peace, just for to-day, and don’t, 0 Masie, 
don’t talk of stewards, or I can’t tell you what 
I shall do. I consented to be a minister’s daugh- 
ter, you know, only because I was born to it, 
but we are out on a lark to-day, and we don’t 
want the flock.” 

“It ’s only,” began Mrs. Roberts, shaking a 
most disapproving head at her disrespectful, 
but loving, daughter. 

“Oh, I know perfectly,” interrupted Sue. 
“It ’s only that we haven’t, and never will be- 
long to ourselves. But really, Masie, this is a 
between-whiles, when you come to think of 
it. We have left the Leesburgers and we 
have n’t got to the Monroers yet. Just look at 
father ; who would believe he is threatened with 
a minister’s throat? Could Peggy hop like 
that if Mrs. Bleeker were here? And what 
would Mr. Martin say if he ’d see me with my 
pompadour over one ear, as it is this blessed 


8 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


minute? ‘Nay, nay, Pauline !’ Let ’s have a 
good time once in our lives un watched ; besides, 
we are in such ridiculous spirits it would never 
do for them to see us. Why, there isn’t a 
heavy heart among us ! ’ ’ 

“Oh, Sue!” protested her mother. 

“Well, is there?” laughed Sue. “Even 
Betty forgot her primness and hopped — Oh! 
jiminy crickets! We’re there! That’s the 
wall father told us about ! ’ ’ 

With a rush and a scurry — even gentle little 
Mrs. Roberts was carried, for the moment, off 
her feet — they sped along the wall and stood 
at last between the great ball-topped posts. 
Surely never in all its history had that gate- 
way been crowded with such eager, happy 
faces. 

“Hello!” shouted Phil. “There’s an or- 
chard!” 

“A bay-window!” exclaimed Mrs. Roberts. 

“A veranda!” sighed Betty. 

“A knocker!” giggled Peggy. 

‘ ‘ A barn ! ’ ’ squealed Davie. 

“A-a-a-a cellar door!” panted little Ben. 

‘ ‘ A-a-a-a — everything ! The charmingest ! 
quaintest ! darlingest ! You dear, horrid father ! 
and you said it was an old tumbledown rookery, 
and we would have to try to be content!” Sue 


CHERRYFAIR 


9 


flung herself upon her father’s neck in a trans- 
port of rapture. 

“Pooh, pooh!” chuckled Mr. Roberts, patting 
his impulsive daughter lovingly on the back. 
“It is so tumbledown I’m afraid most men 
would have dreaded its introduction to their 
family; but, you see, I know my chicks so well 
— my good little chicks and my little gray hen — 
trust them to find the sunny side of a necessity ! 
Come, Phil, you and I will make a royal chariot 
and carry Masie in state. She’s the queen of 
this palace. Here is the key, Sue; you unlock 
the door, and you children fall in behind, single 
file. Up you go, little lady!” 

There in the Queen’s chair rode the little 
mother, so proud and happy, one arm around 
her merry husband’s neck, and the other about 
her sturdy, laughing son; behind came the ex- 
cited children, and before danced Sue. 

“This is the very best time we ever did 
have,” said Sue, as she fitted the big key into 
the lock with a flourish. “This key is so big 
it makes me think of castles, and dungeons, 
and things. Are you sure, father, there’s not 
a dungeon in the cellar? I’d love to keep po- 
tatoes in a dungeon. There, the key turned! 
Shut your eyes, everybody! Behold!” and she 
flung open the door. 


10 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


The Robertses stood dumb with amazement. 
Here was a surprise for Mr. Roberts, too ; and 
it came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, and 
meant so much of loving helpfulness and kind- 
ness from his new people — no one noticed the 
queer, choking sound in his throat; but when 
his wife saw a tear steal out and go sliding 
down his cheek, she wiped it lovingly away and 
said softly: 

“ There, dears, put me down. This is cer- 
tainly a beautiful home-coming. ’ ’ 

“And to think,” groaned Sue, a heap of con- 
trition, from the lowest stair-step, ‘ ‘ that I 
scorned the flock! I just dared Masie to talk 
of stewards, and now this — I shall go down on 
my knees to them ! ’ ’ 

When Sue threw open the door of Cherry- 
fair, the family had expected to find the barren 
gloom, the musty, dusty, fustiness of a house 
long closed to sun and air. They had expected 
to see grimy floors and stained walls, for Mr. 
Roberts, hoping to charm them by the out-of- 
doors, and not wishing to disappoint them in 
the house, had kept its good points to himself, 
and prepared them for all its discomforts. 
They had expected days and days of scouring 
and cleaning, of setting to rights and furbish- 


CHERRYFAIR 


11 


mg, before there would be a spot with the air 
of home. 

A low, wide hall with an open stairway led to 
the second floor, while a bay-window overlooked 
a quaint old garden; there was a fireplace on 
the side, and beside it an arch opening into the 
parlor. This much their father had told them ; 
but what of the fresh paper, all green and 
cream and gold; the pretty green carpet; the 
dainty curtains looped back that the lilacs 
might peep in; the low book case by the win- 
dow; the mass of ferns that filled the fireplace 
and trailed out over the shining brass fender; 
the wicker chairs; the little tea-table; the pic- 
tures on the wall? And in a green vase, a 
branch of cherry-bloom upheld a card. 

Mr. Roberts rubbed his eye-glasses' vigor- 
ously and cleared his throat many times before 
he could read what was written there: 

“ Accept, with the love of the whole congre- 
gation, this bit of brightness for your home- 
coming. 9 ’ 

“I’ve always thought ,’ 9 said Betty, solemnly, 
addressing no one in particular, “that we have 
the most beautiful things happen to us a family 
ever had, and now I know it ! ’ ’ 

But here, for Sue, happiness was getting too 


12 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


near tears; and before any one guessed what 
was to happen next, she had sprung to her 
feet: 

“All join hands,’ ’ she cried; “it’s time for 
a jubilee!” 

‘ i Oh, Sue, not on the new carpet ! ’ 1 exclaimed 
Mrs. Roberts, as Phil seized her on one side 
and Davie on the other. 

“In the parlor, then; we can’t hurt anything 
there;” and Sue dragged her father through 
the arch. Here, in the big, empty room, where, 
through the half-closed shutters, the sunlight 
was painting yellow bars upon the bare floor, 
they gaily chanted the nonsense verse that Mr. 
Roberts had made for Sue and Phil when they 
were tots, and to which every little Roberts had 
danced miles, a foolish little song which they all 
loved dearly. It had helped them through 
many a hard place, and expressed their joy in 
many a happy one : 

“Whoopsy saw, sine craw, 

The Robertses come to town, 

With troubles a-plenty, but never a frown ; 

Their laughter goes up, and no tears run down. 
Whoopsy saw, sine craw, 

When the Robertses come to town !” 

Around and around they went until Davie’s 
head swam, and Ben’s fat bare legs, twinkling 



AROUND AND AROUND THEY WENT 



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CHERRYFAIR 


15 


in and ont of the golden bars, fairly winked in 
the checkered gloom as he flew by, while above 
the clatter of their feet upon the floor fheir 
merry singling rang through the empty house. 

“ Mercy l” gasped little Mrs. Roberts, quite 
out of breath with prancing and singing, her 
hat knocked rakishly to one side, her back hair 
slipped from its fastenings. “Do have mercy 
on a poor old lady who can’t keep up. 0 chil- 
dren, I’m really past the age for this sort of 
thing ! ’ ’ 

In a moment she was surrounded by a breath- 
less, laughing group, exclaiming, pitying, to be 
tenderly led out to a seat on the veranda steps 
until she had quite recovered. Mr. Roberts 
found that he, too, was glad to drop down by 
her side, to fan her with his hat while he rested 
after such unusual exertion. 

“Now, my dears,” he said, looking at his 
watch. “It is half-past nine, and at eleven we 
must be at Mr. Reed’s, so I think we would 
better settle down to business. While Masie 
and I rest a bit, suppose, Sue, you and the 
children look over the house, and come back 
and report. By that time we old folks will be 
ready to take a hand.” 

Ever since Sue Roberts could remember she 
had known responsibilities. The little mother 


16 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


had never been very strong, money was so 
scarce in the family treasury, and the babies 
had crowded so fast into the home nest, that, 
in spite of Mr. and Mrs. Roberts’ longing to 
give their oldest daughter a care-free child- 
hood, burdens had slipped upon her slender 
shoulders not often borne by so young a girl. 
But, somehow, the burdens had never seemed 
to hurt Sue — perhaps because she had always 
taken them with such breezy good-humor. 
Luckily for them all, Sue could get so much real 
delight out of so little, that the younger Rob- 
ertses had hardly felt the pinch of poverty; 
for, as they said, “Sue always knows just what 
to do to make a good time.” 

Sue had the happiest and most rollicking of 
dispositions. If she' was careless, somewhat 
disorderly, and often rude, she was sincere, 
helpful, and loving. If she was slangy, wilful 
and thoughtless, she was truthful, brave and 
cheerful. She had plenty of faults, but more 
virtues; and no one knew her who did not 
respect the downright honesty of her char- 
acter. 

“As hoity-toity a child as ever breathed, but 
a most lovable and unselfish,” Judge Fulton 
was wont to say; for Sue’s tomboy ways had 
never hidden her real worth from her uncle’s 


CHERRYFAIR 17 

loving eyes. It was Aunt Serena who replied 
with a groan: 

‘ ‘ But, oh, David, so undignified, so unrefined ! 
I should think it would break Albert’s heart — 
Mary is so mild I don’t suppose a roaring lion 
would jostle her calm soul. Elizabeth is a little 
lady, and I have the greatest hopes for Mar- 
garet and the boys ; but Susan, a great girl of 
fourteen — in spite of her capabilities, is abso- 
lutely impossible ! Yes, my dear, I remember 
perfectly what I was like at her age, and that’s 
the very thing that makes me so anxious about 
her. What she needs is severe discipline, and 
she will never get it in that happy-go-lucky 
home.” 

Even those who loved Sue best were forced 
to admit there was a good deal of truth in 
Aunt Serena’s assertion. But, when it came 
to seeing to the home life, the welfare, the hap- 
piness, even the finances of the family, it was 
Sue who joyfully carried a good deal more than 
her share. But, as her father said, she was 
like a chestnut burr, all prickles on the outside, 
yet wholesome and sweet within. 

Now at her father’s command, her head went 
up like a young captain, and in a moment she 
had marshaled her little company before her. 
They all knew it was Sue who would determine 


18 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


everything, from where the piano should stand 
to where the smallest frying pan must hang. 
It was Sue who would choose her father’s 
study, and decide if the parlor carpet could be 
turned, if the dining-room curtains would stand 
darning, or if there should be new ones. So 
now, with her little notebook open, her stumpy 
pencil between her teeth, she seemed a very 
different person from the romping girl who had 
been running races in the road only a few 
moments before. 

The kind work of the congregation, Sue 
found, had not stopped with the pretty hall ; for 
the whole house had been beautifully cleaned, 
and several rooms were newly papered. Even 
the cellar had been freshly whitewashed, and 
Phil discovered, greatly to the joy of Davie 
and Ben, rows and rows of enticing little jam 
and jelly pots glowing with amber and ruby, 
that had evidently just been placed upon the 
clean papers of the fruit cupboard. On the 
dining-room mantel was a big bowl of lilies- 
of-the-valley, while in the open kitchen window 
stood a pot of parsley, and in it, tucked among 
the pretty green, was a card on which, scribbled 
in a girlish hand, Sue read : 

“To flavor the soup and the savory stew, 

This pot of parsley is given to you, 

Dear rollicking, merry, minister's Sue 


CHERRYFAIR 


19 


while pinned to a new tea-towel was a bit of 
paper that informed them, to the delight of the 
twins, that: 


“Sweet as any violet, 

Are Elizabeth and Margaret, 

Drying goblet, plate and cup, . 

Upon this brand new towelet.” 

“It’s dreadful poetry,’ ’ laughed Sue, “but 
it makes it seem as if somebody who knew and 
loved us was going to jump out and say, ‘boo!’ 
any minute, and that does give one such a 
lovely, creepy feeling.” 

At each fresh discovery a messenger ran 
post-haste to tell the good news to father and 
mother out on the veranda. Davie and Ben 
fought valiantly upon the way over this honor, 
only to rush breathlessly back in hope of more 
news. 

“It is just as if a fairy godmother had been 
here and left lovely bits of welcome every- 
where,” said Betty, her eyes shining, as she 
stood tracing with a plump forefinger the 
honeysuckle sprays on the pretty wall paper of 
the bedroom Sue had just assigned to the twins. 
The boys had gone to investigate the barn. 
“It is so dear of you, Sue, to give us this 
pretty room. I’m afraid it is awfully selfish 
2 


20 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


of ns to have this, when you take that back 
room with the old red paper. ’ ’ 

44 Stuff and nonsense !” replied Sue, as she 
stepped off the floor to see if the striped green 
matting would cover it. 4 4 Just you lay low 
and see how my room turns out, girlies. Won’t 
father’s study be fine, with that big window to 
the east? I do believe there will be enough of 
the old red Brussels Aunt Serena sent to cover 
the floor. If only we could get new curtains 
for the parlor, would n’t it be dandy?” 

“Oh, Sue!” grieved Betty, “dandy!” 

“Well, would n’t it?” argued Sue. “Jim- 
dandy, if you like that better. I do wonder 
who the parsley-girl is, and how she knew I 
cooked and you washed dishes. Father has 
been telling tales, I believe.” 

“Who’s talking about me?” called Mr. Rob- 
erts from the stairs. 4 4 Here we come, although 
I know very well Sue has us all settled.” 

“Oh, Masie!” screamed the twins, flying to 
her side. “Come see — come see our room!” 

“We’ve got the honeysuckle room. Is n’t it 
lovely of Sue to give it to us?” cried Peggy, 
dancing up and down ; 4 4 and we are to have the 
green matting, if Sue can cut the holes out, and 
the dresser with the leg off ! ” 

44 1 do wish we could have ruffled curtains,” 


CHERRYFAIR 21 

broke in Betty; 4 ‘ they give things such an 
air. ’ ’ 

4 ‘ This is your room, Masie, dear,” and Sue 
flung open the door of a big room with an out- 
look over the orchard. “Father, your study 
is this corner room toward the garden and 
away from the noise; this big room is for the 
boys, and this is mine.” 

“And Sue’s got schemes, Masie, and she 
won’t tell a word,” explained Peggy, as they 
all stood looking into the rather uninteresting 
room Sue had chosen for herself. 

“.Up to your old tricks, daughterling, ” ob- 
served Mr. Roberts, putting a loving arm about 
his slender girl. “We’ll have to watch you, 
or you will spoil us all.” 

“Now, Sue, let me take this room — ” began 
her mother. 

“You make me perfectly weary,” declared 
Sue, vehemently, hammering her father’s broad 
shoulder with her little brown fist. “If you 
say another word I will run off and let you 
settle alone, and how would you like that! I’m 
so tired of this song and dance about my un- 
selfishness; I’m a regular old pig, but you love 
me so hard you can’t see it. I took this dinky 
little room because I see its possibilities; and 
I’ll be jolly in it. I just love the whole ca- 


22 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


boodle of you, and now I think we’d better 
skedaddle for Mr. Reed’s.” 

“ Susan, what language! Where do you 
hear such things?” groaned her father, yet 
laughing in spite of himself. 

4 ‘ Oh, Sue, I do hope you will be more careful 
for your father’s sake, if not for your own,” 
protested Masie. “What will the new people 
think of us all, if you talk like that?” 

“Don’t you worry, Masie.” Sue flew at her 
mother to drop a contrite kiss on the end of 
her nose. “I’m going to be as proper as an 
etiquette book and as meek as a sheep. You’ll 
think you have another Betty. Now, twinsies, 
hunt up the boys, for we really must be going.” 

“Indeed we must,” agreed Mr. Roberts, con- 
sulting his watch, “the train upon which they 
are expecting us is due in an hour, and we must 
not allow them to make a useless trip to the 
station.” 

“Heigho!” sighed Sue, as she slowly went 
down the steps, looking back longingly at the 
house. “Our lark is over, and once more we 
belong to the flock; so no more high jinks for 
Susie. But they are a blessed flock and I love 
’em ! Father, who do you suppose is the 
parsley-girl ? ” 


CHAPTER II 


THE KEVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 

G AY times came to Cherryfair. The sound 
of the tackhammer was heard in the house, 
the rending of crates, the opening of boxes and 
of barrels, the scurrying of feet, the calling of 
merry voices, and now and then the wails of 
Benny, who, in his great anxiety not to miss 
anything that was going on, was under every- 
body’s feet, getting continually trodden upon. 
Sue suggested the best thing to do would be to 
put him in a pen, as they had the little pig 
Farmer Bowers had brought over to Davie the 
day before, and who was now squealing pa- 
thetically back of the barn. 

The week spent in getting acquainted with 
the congregation of Monroe, while they awaited 
the coming of their household goods, had been 
one full of pleasure to the Robertses. The 
pretty old town with its wide, shady streets, the 
comfortable houses set far back upon their 
broad lawns, and the genial, kindly hospitality 
of the people, after three years spent in a crude, 
23 


24 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


new factory town, were delightful. There had 
been only one real disappointment to Sue, and 
that was she had failed to find her parsley-girl. 

Good Mrs. Reed laughed merrily when Sue 
at once enquired for her, describing in her 
vivid way what she expected her to be like, and 
her great anxiety to meet her new friend. 

“I can’t think who it can be,” said Mrs. 
Reed as she served the “floating island” with 
a lavish hand, “unless it is Fanny Spencer. 
She did n ’t say a word the day we were working 
there, but her mother has a great deal of pars- 
ley in her borders. Then again it might be 
Avis Taylor; she’s a regular chatterbox, but a 
sweet, good child.” 

But Sue knew the moment she met them that 
it was neither Fanny nor Avis, although they 
were both charming girls, nor was it Pink Mor- 
ris, Belle Wilkin nor Mildred Warner. 

“I don’t know why, Masie,” Sue had said 
the morning after the church reception, as she 
stood combing her hair in Mrs. Reed’s spare 
chamber, “but I felt, before I asked them, that 
I had n’t found her. They are all dandy, but 
they have n’t the right sort of tone for my pars- 
ley-girl. I’m so afraid I’ll never find her, for 
the girls say I have met every one of their set 
except Martha Cutting, and she was n’t out at 


THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 25 


Cherryfair that day, and yesterday she went 
to Dexter to visit her aunt, and so was n’t at 
the reception. That shows she did n’t care 
much about meeting me, does n’t it?” 

“ Perhaps she had made arrangements to go, 
before she knew of the reception,” suggested 
Mrs. Roberts. “I thought all the girls had 
very pretty manners. Oh, Sue ! ’ ’ 

“I know, Masie,” groaned Sue, jabbing the 
hair-pins fiercely into her pompadour. 
“Was n’t that awful when I could n’t think of 
the name of the chandelier and called it a 
thingumajig right before that lovely old Doctor 
Burton? Poor Betty blushed until I thought 
she’d catch fire. But I could n’t think of the 
name of the old thing to save my life. Every 
time I want to be nice I just go and disgrace 
you all.” 

Her mother, seeing the tears glistening in the 
black eyes — Sue was little given to crying — 
drew her head down and kissed her fondly. 

“You are such a dear, good girl, Sue,” she 
said lovingly, “that I can’t bear to have you 
spoiled by such rudeness. It is like an ugly 
mask you hold up before you, so that the world 
may not see the true, sweet girl behind it. It 
is so unladylike and unrefined.” 

“But that is just it, Masie, I know I’ll shock 


26 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


you, but I don’t want to be ladylike nor refined. 
I just bate old conventions, I want to be strong 
and forceful and independent. I like slang be- 
cause it is so expressive. I don’t care a penny 
what other people think. It is only that father 
and you and the rest suffer over me so — that 
’most breaks my heart.” 

Mrs. Roberts sighed deeply as she replied : 

“Well, Sue, like all mothers, I want to save 
you pain ; to try and stand between you and the 
hurts life will bring, but I am afraid you will 
have to learn for yourself that this world would 
be a most uncomfortable place without its con- 
ventions, and that your ideas of strength and 
independence are very far from what is best.” 

But Sue to-day, with a scarlet handkerchief 
tied around her curly head, a scarlet apron 
buttoned about her slim body, was a gay and 
picturesque little figure, as she flew upstairs 
and down, issuing orders, clearing the way, 
suggesting, planning, comforting, cheering. 

“Now,” she said at last, “I’m going down 
to get lunch, and I want Masie to settle right 
down on the couch for a couple of winks, and 
father to cuddle down here on this mattress — 
not a word of protest! I’ll tuck Masie up with 
this table cover and she’ll be off to the Land of 
Nod like a lamplighter. Here, father, that 


THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 27 


cushion is like lead, but here is a nice old, softy 
pillow. Cuddle down, bairnies, cuddle down! 
Come on, kids ! Phil can help me fix the table 
with the boards on the barrels, Betty can set it, 
and Peggy help me cook. Davie and Ben 
would better run out and see about the pig. 
Shoo, shoo ! ’ ’ and catching up her scarlet apron 
with both hands, she drove them down the &tair 
before her. 

Laughing and singing they trooped into the 
kitchen with Sue dancing behind; but at the 
door they all stopped in astonishment. 

“0 Sue,” cried Ben, his eyes round as moons, 
‘ 1 somebody has been here ! ’ ’ 

'“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” Sue exclaimed, 
dropping into a chair and throwing her apron 
over her head. “It’s that parsley-girl again, 
bless her!” 

And it was — it truly was ! For who but the 
“parsley-girl” could have entered the house 
without being seen, could have worked so deftly 
and so quietly; and who else would have set a 
rhyme in the midst of the red tulips that stood 
in the centre of the improvised table? 

“Why, Sue!” cried Davie, jumping wildly 
up and down, “she put the boards on the barrel 
just like we do. I guess the parsley-girl has 
moved too.” 


28 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“But where did she find the tablecloth and 
things ? ’ ’ asked Betty dazedly. ‘ ‘ I put them all 
away in the pantry after breakfast / 9 

“She found them because she is a girl after 
my own heart,” cried Sue, flinging off the apron 
and rushing to the door; “because when she 
wants to help she finds a way, and does n’t 
stand around talking about it. But now she’s 
gone, and where will we find her 1 ’ ’ 

“She can’t be far” — Phil was already down 
the steps. “Come on; let’s go hunt her! You 
can run around that side of the barn, Sue, and 
I’ll go this. Betty and Peggy can hunt in the 
orchard, and the kids run around the house. 
Hurry up ; we ’ll catch her ! ’ ’ 

But five minutes afterward they came back 
panting, and no one had found her. 

“I was certain I heard her giggle back of a 
lilac bush,” puffed Davie, flinging himself 
down on the doorstep; “but when I looked it 
was nothing but an old hen that flew out 
squawking. ’ ’ 

“I found this,” shrieked Peggy, tearing 
around the house waving a pink sunbonnet 
over her head. “I found it hanging on a cur- 
rant-bush down by the orchard wall, and I saw 
a girl just flying over the meadow, and she 


THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 29 


stopped and waved her hand at me as she 
climbed the fence!” 

“Who can she be? We don’t know a soul 
that lives on that side of us. I can’t under- 
stand it at all, ’ ’ wailed Sue, as she searched for 
some clue in the pink bonnet. 

But, fresh and dainty as a rose, from the 
perky little bow on top to the fluted ruffle of its 
frill, the pink bonnet kept its secret. So did 
the custard pie, the crisp rolls, the slices of 
pink boiled ham set all about with parsley, and 
the yellow pat of butter, all waiting so de- 
murely to be eaten; even the rhyme among the 
tulips only sent their curiosity to fever heat: 

“0 minister’s Sue 
But I love you — 

Your scarlet apron 
And black eyes, too, 

For you my heart is beating true, 

0 black-eyed minister’s Sue ! ” 

“How does she know you have black eyes, 
Sue Roberts?” demanded Betty. “Except 
Ben, you are the only one of us that has ! And 
how does she know that you’ve got a scarlet 
apron? You only put it on this morning. I 
don’t like her, for I just believe she’s a spook, 
or something.” 


30 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“Spooks don’t bring custard pies nor wear 
pink bonnets, let me tell you, Miss Betty. But 
I don’t care if she is twenty spooks, she is the 
blessedest one I ever heard of, and I just love 
her!” and Sue rapturously hugged the pink 
bonnet to her breast. “Do run and call father 
and Masie 7 Davie, here is the teakettle boiling 
itself away on the oil-stove; and here is the 
tea in the pot. That dear, parsley-girl did n’t 
forget a thing; and to think that I can’t even 
thank her.” 

Little by little Cherryfair changed from a 
forlorn, dilapidated house to the coziest of 
home nests. Of course, there was always the 
delight of the pretty hall — that was such a com- 
fort! It was there Sue ran a dozen times a 
day to “refresh” herself, as she explained, by 
a glimpse of something really new and dainty 
and settled — something that required no fur- 
bishing, no painting, nor any patching to make 
it presentable. 

“The person who said, ‘ two moves are as 
bad as a fire,’ must have been a minister’s 
daughter,” laughed Sue, as one morning she 
pulled ruefully at the dislocated arm of the 
best oak rocker. “I don’t believe we’ve got 
a single piece of furniture that is n’t a cripple. 
Just look at that jigger in the corner. It 


THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 31 


has n’t a leg to stand on, the marble is cracked, 
and the railing oft — ” 

“Now, don’t say, Sue Roberts, that you are 
going to turn that old washstand into a grand 
piano,” begged Betty, dramatically, as she sat 
whisking the dust from under the buttons on 
the old sofa. “We’ve turned everything turn- 
able, and I’d like to see one piece of furniture 
that was n’t pretending to be something else.” 

“You’d better not say that, Betty,” giggled 
Peggy, from her corner, where she was rubbing 
the dining-room table with sweet oil and vine- 
gar; “or she might not turn those old Swiss 
skirts into sash-curtains for our room — and 
where would we be, then?” 

“Oh, but she promised, and nobody ever 
knew Sue to go back on that kind of a promise. 
Go on, Sue; I was only funning.” 

“Uh?” inquired Sue, absently, still wiggling 
the dislocated arm. “Benny, please run up- 
stairs for the glue and a string. Excuse me, 
Betty; I was so interested in diagnosing the 
case of this poor chair, I did n’t hear you.” 

“Never mind what I said; but look here, 
Sue, what are you going to have in your room? 
Ours is lovely, and you have nothing but that 
cot and the cherry desk. Why, it will be worse 
than a barn.” 


32 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“Oh, don’t trouble about me. Bareness is 
rather swell, Betty, after you get used to it. 
As Aunt Serena said about my vsailor-hat, 
* simple and chaste,’ you know. .Goodness gra- 
cious! what was that?” she cried, as an un- 
earthly screech rent the air. 

“It’s Phil,” exclaimed Peggy, rushing to the 
door. “He’s tearing down the lane waving 
something over his head. ’ ’ 

“It’s a letter, I suppose,” said Betty, going 
on briskly with her brushing. “Father sent 
him to the postoffice just after breakfast. It 
is some old advertisement. Phil would n’t go 
to all that trouble if it was worth anything. 
He’ll see you, Peggy. He is just dying to 
have us rush out on the veranda ! Let’s appear 
perfectly indifferent when he comes up.” 

“I’ll duck behind the curtain if he looks this 
way,” promised Peggy. “But I really believe 
it is a letter, for it’s in a square envelope.” 

By this time Phil was coming up the walk, 
still running and flourishing a creamy missive 
over his head. 

“There,” he panted, as he reached the steps 
and flung himself down with evidences of great 
fatigue; “I could n’t have gotten here any 
sooner if I had been the lightning-express. 
You girls are mighty cool, it seems to me. It 









% 




SUE. 







THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 35 


is n’t every brother who would have come all 
that way at a 2.40 gait. See if this chap does, 
next time ! One would think you got three let- 
ters a day. All right! since nobody seems in- 
terested enough to inquire, I guess I’ll read it 
myself,” and leisurely drawing out his jack- 
knife, he settled himself comfortably to open 
the letter. In spite of herself, Peggy leaned 
as far out from the curtain as she dared with- 
out being seen. 

“Miss Susan Plenty Roberts, Monroe, Ohio,” 
she read aloud. “Why, Sue, it’s for you — and 
he’s opening it!” 

“You can imagine my feelings,” gasped 
Phil — Sue, making a sudden dive for him, had 
rescued her letter to the great danger to her 
fingers — “when the postman read that address 
aloud, and asked me if it belonged to any rela- 
tive of mine! Susan Plenty! I felt my ears 
grow crimson! Sue, if I had such a name as 
that I’d amputate it.” 

“It’s all very well for you to poke fun at 
poor me,” said Sue, dolefully, as her father 
and mother, in answer to Peggy’s shrill sum- 
mons, appeared in the doorway — a letter to the 
Roberts children was an event, and always 
read to the assembled family. “Come on, fa- 
ther and mother. It’s from Aunt Serena, and 


36 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


it ’s a lecture, I know, for I felt it in the air all 
the time I was there. Now, Davie and Ben, 
please! don’t both sit on me at once! I was 
just saying,” she went on, when she had gotten 
Davie cosily established on one side and Benny 
in her lap, ‘ 1 that it is all very well for Phil to 
make fun of my name, when each of the other 
children have a lovely name. It’s a perfect 
shame, I think. I don’t care if I was named 
for my grandmothers — I’ll bet a picayune they 
hated their old names like fun. The only com- 
fort I had was that Sue P. Roberts did n’t sound 
quite so awful, and one could only guess at the 
middle letter. It might stand for Phyllis or 
Portia — ” 

“Or Peter, Presbyterian, or Prickly Pear,” 
murmured Phil, softly. 

“But now that Aunt Serena has taken up 
the Susan Plenty,” and Sue, turning up her 
nose at her teasing brother, took no farther 
notice of him, “I suppose I must grin and bear 
it.” 

“Never mind,” comforted Peggy, cuddling 
down with her head on Sue’s shoulder. “I 
think Sue is a dear, funny name, much nicer 
than Peggy.” 

“My dear Susan Plenty,” read Sue, pretend- 
ing to adjust an eyeglass and tipping her chin 


THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY! 37 


to a saucy angle: 4 4 As I write those two beau- 
tiful old names I find myself wishing you 
would show more inclination to grow up to 
them. You know, my dear child, I am a great 
believer in the influence of names, and there- 
fore gave my children fine, strong ones — ” 

“ Meaning Jacob William, Simor. John, and 
Ellen Jane,” chuckled Phil. 

‘ ‘ And, ’ ’ went on Sue, ‘ ‘ I have always thought 
it has had much to do with their noble charac- 
ters. It has grieved me that your dear parents 
have allowed nicknames. Your- father was al- 
ways Albert, and I, Serena, in our home, as he 
will remember. Do, my child, try to feel the 
real dignity of such names as yours, and re- 
member you are a minister’s daughter, and 
therefore much is expected of you. 

“I do not want to be unkind nor fault-find- 
ing, Susan ; but the truth is, we all love you so 
much for your unselfishness and your lovable- 
ness that we are apt to forgive in you many 
things that we would condemn in another girl. ’ 9 
Sue was reading bravely, her voice loud and 
clear, but there was a storm brewing and its 
crimson signal was* flaming in her cheeks. “I 
tried to say this when you were with us, but 
you were so sweet and thoughtful of your uncle 
and me, I had not the heart to utter it. But 


38 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


the more I have thought about a girl who says 
‘you bet’ and ‘fierce/ and who says she can’t 
see why every one makes so much fuss about 
a hole in a stocking, wearing gentle old Grand- 
mother Plenty Roberts’s ruby ring and her gold 
beads, the more unsuitable it seems, and I feel 
that it is to Elizabeth and Margaret they should 
belong. So now that you are going into your 
new home, and I am sending the usual box, I 
am going to give you your Uncle Martin’s In- 
dian collection — the Navajo blanket is quite 
valuable and so are the peace pipes. Toma- 
hawks and elks’ teeth should please, it seems 
to me, a girl with your ideas far better than 
gold or gems. The ring I am sending to Eliza- 
beth—” 

‘ 1 And she promised it to me ever since I can 
remember!” cried Sue, throwing the letter on 
the floor. “She is horrid — perfectly horrid!” 

“I won’t take the ring, Sue; indeed I won’t,” 
protested Betty. 

“She can keep her old Indian stuff,” stormed 
Sue. “Don’t tell me, Masie, I admired it; that 
only makes it all the worse. I never dreamed 
she was going to throw it at me, did I, and 
keep the things that were really mine ? ’ ’ 

“Listen, Sue,” said her father, picking up 
the letter and handing it to her so politely she 


THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 39 


was forced to take it with some show of grace. 
“Aunt Serena is exactly right. She does say 
out plainly what she means, but surely she has 
earned that right, for if ever a girl has had a 
kind, generous aunt — ” 

“Oh, I know she’s been just lovely, and I’m 
acting like a beast ; but I am grateful, and she 
always is picking at my manners.” 

“I suppose she sees how little your mother 
and I have accomplished by tenderness; and 
really, Sue, I think, like Aunt Serena, that a 
girl who so hates conventions would consider 
this a most appropriate gift. The ring is hers 
and if she prefers Betty should have it — ” 
“You don’t understand, father. It isn’t 
that I don’t want Betty to have the ring,” 
broke in Sue, beseechingly. “It is n’t that I 
think I deserve it, nor that I would n’t love to 
have the Indian things when I get used to the 
thought of it ; but she had promised, promised, 
and now, as a sort of punishment, she withholds 
it and gives me something else.” 

“I see just how she feels, she promised them 
to S-u-e, not S-i-o-u-x, but if you insist on be- 
having like the latter, I suppose Aunt Serena 
thinks the savage would prefer the gift most 
suited to her needs.” 

“Father Roberts!” cried Sue, upsetting 


40 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Benny from her lap in her impetuous rush at 
her father. “Do you think I behave like a 
Sioux ? Ton honor, now!” 

“I have n't a doubt,” said her father, push- 
ing the dark hair back from her brow and 
smiling at her lovingly, “that there is many 
a gentle little squaw who would scorn to use 
language it pained her mother and father to 
hear. But for all that, I know the worth of 
my Sioux, and love her with all my heart.” 

“In spite of, and not because of. Eh, fa- 
ther!” inquired Sue, roguishly. Then sud- 
denly her black eyes began dancing as mis- 
chievously as ever, and springing upon a foot- 
stool she began a proclamation: 

‘ ‘ Hear ye, all my people, I have tried to live 
up to my name and station for almost fifteen 
years — I began very young, you see — and I 
have made, according to my Aunt Serena and 
my beloved father, a most dismal failure. 
Now, since my relatives say I act like a red 
man — a red girl, I mean — I might as well take 
an Indian name and live up — no, down — to 
that, and be sure of a great success. So, be- 
hold me, no longer Susan Plenty, but 
S-i-o-u-x; and I'll make the stunningest wig- 
wam, with my peace pipes and tomahawks, out 


THE REVOLT OF SUSAN PLENTY 41 


of my dingy back room. Just wait until you 
see. Hurrah for Aunt Serena !” 

“Oh, Sue, you are utterly irrepressible; you 
rebound like a rubber ball, ’ ’ sighed her mother. 
“I believe you would find the sunny side of an 
iceberg. ’ ’ 

“Of course I should,’ ’ replied Sue, laugh- 
ingly. “What would be the use of staying on 
the shady side? I would only freeze my toes. 
Now let us see what else Aunt Serena has to say. 
Bless her, her bark is always a great deal 
worse than her bite! Cheer up, twinsies; Sue 
is all over her tantrum, and you are as wel- 
come to the ring and beads as flowers that 
bloom in the Spring, tra-la! Just wait until 
you see my wigwam. It is going to be a 
dandy ! ’ 9 


CHAPTER III 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 

* i fT^HERE was a goose of Syracuse, 

And full of fun was he,” 

warbled Sue, as she rubbed the wrinkled panes 
until they glistened in the sun. “ Diamonds 
are as nothing to these windows, if you don’t 
care what you say,” she grumbled, as she gave 
the last greenish square an extra flourish. 
“This glass has as many eyes as a potato. But 
then, who ever heard of windows in a wigwam, 
any way! So I’m not going to be the Indian 
to complain if they are a bit blistered, for they 
are a lot better than none. Now, the next 
thing is for me to get into my duds and hie me 
to the carpenter’s.” 

She was talking to herself, for a strange 
silence had settled upon Cherryfair, and for 
once she was alone. There was no clatter of 
children’s feet, no shrill calling of children's 
voices; for, in spite of protest, Mr. Roberts 
had marshaled the whole five off to school that 
Monday morning, saying the half-mile twice a 
42 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 43 


day would be good for them, and that there 
was no use of their losing six weeks of study. 
In fact, Sue had escaped only after faithful 
promises that two hours of each day should 
be set aside for lessons. 

The house, after a week of hard work, was 
quite settled, except for Sue’s room. She was 
still abiding with the chaste simplicity of the 
cot and cherry desk, as Aunt Serena’s box had 
not yet arrived. Since Mandy Dobbin, big, 
buxom, and willing, had taken charge of the 
family, the housework was moving along more 
smoothly than it did under Sue’s impetuous 
reign. Mrs. Roberts now found time to sit in 
her pleasant room — though, as Sue groaned, 
Masie’s sitting down only meant the appear- 
ance of a peck of stockings to mend or a quart 
of buttons to sew on. As for Sue, Mandy ’s 
strong hand on the rudder gave her the most 
glorious hours of freedom to do all the hundred 
and one tasks she had set herself, beside the 
two hours for her music, for which she had 
almost despaired of ever finding time. 

The twins turned most reluctant feet to- 
ward school that morning. Their round faces 
were as nearly long as their dimpled chins 
would admit, as Sue tied the bows on their 
flaxen pigtails and buttoned them into their 


44 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


blue, ruffled frocks. It might, they admitted, 
be hard for Phil to desert the dam he was 
building in the brook, and for Davie and Ben to 
part company with their beloved pig; but for 
them to leave Sue, who might be up to all sorts 
of the most delightful capers and they not there 
to see — this was cruel! How could any one 
ever tell what she would do next, since she 
never knew herself? They would not have 
been so unwilling to start to school — for they 
were clever little girls and fond of their books 
— if their father had only insisted upon Sue’s 
going, too ; for then she would have been unable 
to have accomplished anything very remark- 
able without their discovering it. But now she 
would have long, unwatched hours to scheme 
and plan. When Sue had given her solemn 
promise not to open the box should it arrive, 
and to try not to do anything especially excit- 
ing until their return, they were somewhat com- 
forted, and after a last clinging embrace, 
obediently trotted off after their father. 

The clock on the hall mantel was just striking 
ten as Sue came running down the stairs, sing- 
ing at the top of her voice, pinning on her hat 
as she came, her jacket flying out like cardinal 
wings. 

“Good-by, Masie,” she called to her mother, 



SHE WAS CUTTING OUT A WAIST FOR BENNY, 



AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 45 


as she reached the bottom step. “I’m going 
over to Mr. Judd now for a moulding.’ ’ 

4 ‘Wait a moment, dear,” replied Mrs. Rob- 
erts. She was cutting out a waist for Benny 
on the dining-room table. “Come here until I 
look you over.” 

Sue came reluctantly, pulling her hat farther 
over her eyes and trying to look unconcerned. 

“Are all the buttons on your shoes?” asked 
her mother, when she appeared in the doorway. 
“Is the binding mended upon your skirt? Is 
your collar on straight?” 

“0 mother,” cried Sue, “I can’t stop to sew 
on buttons now. I did so hope I could get off 
without your seeing me. Now, who’s going to 
know there is a button off — it’s the second 
from the top — and there is just the teeniest rip 
in the binding. Necker is all right, is n’t it?” 

“It is almost straight in front, turn around 
and let me see. Sue, you are exactly like an 
ostrich; if your head is covered you think you 
are safe; and so, if you get your hat on at a 
becoming angle you imagine you will do. My 
child, I never saw a worse case of pinning. Sit 
right down here; you will find needle and 
thread in my work-basket. The shoe-buttons 
are in that box.” 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Sue; but she reluctantly 


46 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


sat down. “ There, Masie, dear; don’t look so 
ashamed. I’ll do it beautifully before you can 
say 4 Jack Robinson.’ It’s just one button off 
and a few stitches to take.” 

4 ‘ It’s just the difference between tidiness and 
untidiness,” said Mrs. Roberts, as she tore off 
a width of gingham. “My mother always told 
me that a true lady could not wear a stocking 
with a hole in it, and as for a button off, or a 
ripped skirt binding, that was not to be imag- 
ined.” 

“Do you know, Masie” — Sue had divested 
herself of her skirt and was examining with 
astonishment the “teeniest” rip that had to be 
held with two pins and yet left a graceful loop 
lurking for an unwary heel — “do you know, I 
believe my bindings and buttons are bewitched. 
Just look at that! I remember now that it 
was n’t an inch long when I started to church 
yesterday; and then in the afternoon I put in 
the other pin, and now look at it ! My, what a 
careless thing I am!” Sue smiled benignly. 
“I wonder you put up with me, dearie. I 
ought to be ashamed of myself.” 

“That’s just it,” and Mrs. Roberts looked 
over at her daughter with a quizzical smile. 
“You ought to be, but are you? There is 
something deliciously Irish about you, Sue, that 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING- 49 


has been working for you and saving yon hard 
raps all yonr life. You took all reproof so 
sweetly when you were a little thing that you 
missed many a scolding you richly deserved. 
It was always 'I ought to be ashamed/ so fa- 
ther and I forgave and tried to forget until — 
it is hard to say it — your being ashamed never 
means turning over a new leaf. It never means 
4 I’m really going to do better.’ When Phil 
says to me — it’s always a long time coming — 
but when he says, 4 Masie, I’m sorry,’ I know 
every atom of his will is to be used to overcome 
his fault; but with you, my daughter, it is 
promise to-day and break it to-morrow.” 

4 ‘I know it,” sighed Sue, her eyes so blurred 
that her needle looked twenty. “I know it, 
Masie ; yet I really, truly mean it at the time — • 
but someway — I’m no good at all. I’m rude 
and rough and unstable and untidy — ” 

4 4 And yet,” broke in her mother, laying a 
gentle hand on the drooping head, 4 4 with all 
those faults you are the very comfort of our 
hearts. There never was a more unselfish 
daughter and sister, never a more wholesome 
nor a sweeter nature under this flash-in-the- 
pan temper. But it is n’t enough to be sweet, 
unselfish and wholesome. Father and I want 
to see you — since you object to the fine old- 


50 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


fashioned word 4 lady’ — a womanly woman, and 
slang and noise and lost shoe-buttons can never 
belong to her.” 

“No-o-o-o, I suppose not,” sighed Sue, and 
she contritely twisted her thimble round and 
round upon her finger. “If father was n’t a 
minister, and I had n’t been the oldest and a 
girl, I don’t suppose I would have showed up 
so. Really and truly, Masie, I want to be good 
— not namby-pamby good, but beautifully, mag- 
nificently good, like my own dear mother, and 
do strong, brave deeds.” 

“And father and I, Sue,” returned her 
mother, as she sat down and took up her work, 
“are not thinking of the grand, brave thing 
you are dreaming of; but we are hoping and 
praying to see you strong enough to conquer 
your own spirit and your own weaknesses. 
Strong and brave enough to build a lovely 
character. ’ ’ 

It was a sober Sue that kissed her mother 
and walked sedately down the steps between 
the tall gate posts ; but when you are fourteen 
and a June sky as blue as a turquoise is over 
your head, meadow-larks calling to you from 
the fields, and wild roses waving to you from 
the roadside, it takes more than a knowledge of 
your faults to keep your spirits down. 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 4 51 


“I must be a bad lot,” remarked Sue, sor- 
rowfully, to a chipmunk on the fence; “a wery, 
wery bad lot; but don’t you tell the gray squir- 
rels, for they are such gossips. Come, let’s 
have a race,” and away went Sue down the 
road, the chipmunk just far enough ahead to 
make the race exciting, until, at the very turn 
of the lane, with a last flourish of his tail, he 
vanished into a stump that stood in the fence 
corner. 

“ Good-by, if you call that going,” laughed 
Sue, every trace of her troubles banished, and 
turning the corner into the road with such 
speed that she almost ran down a pony-car- 
riage that was coming briskly toward her. 

The driver, with a shrill little scream, jerked 
the line so sharply that the pony stopped on the 
very edge of a steep embankment. 

“George, but that was a close shave!” cried 
a tall, pale boy who was leaning back among 
pillows in the little carriage. “Drive up, 
Virginia; he might step off yet.” 

“I — I beg your pardon,” panted Sue, her 
cheeks flaming as she stood in the middle of 
the road, her hat awry, her hair tossed about 
her gypsy face, her skirt and shoes white with 
dust. “I — I was racing with a chipmunk.” 

“Oh, you were,” replied the tall boy, coldly, 


52 


FEOM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


though he politely lifted his hat. “Well, don’t 
let us detain you, or the chipmunk might win.” 

Sue’s cheeks grew hotter. She was in a 
blaze of rage, so angry she hardly noticed the 
quiet girl who sat beside the boy. A gypsy 
face as brown as her own, with hair as dark 
and eyes as black, but there the resemblance 
ceased. Her silky hair was coiled softly at 
the back of her small, graceful head; the eyes 
were soft and beseeching, her face was not 
nearly so pretty as Sue’s, but very gentle and 
winning. But Sue only saw she was near her 
own age, stylishly dressed, and very much dis- 
tressed by the boy’s rudeness. 

“You must excuse my brother,” the girl said 
in a soft, low voice that had a pretty little ripple 
in it. “He has been very ill, and is still nerv- 
ous.” 

“Nervous! Great snakes! Virginia,” broke 
in the boy, “one doesn’t need to be nervous 
not to care to be upset into a ditch. Do drive 
on ; one never knows where the natives around 
here will break out next. ’ ’ 

“I’m not a native,” snapped Sue, her eyes 
flashing, “and I think you are very rude. It 
was silly of me to rush along like that, but I 
begged your pardon.” 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING- 53 


“Not a native ?” inquired the boy. “Really 
now ! ’ ’ 

“I’m Sue P. Roberts, the minister’s 
daughter,” said Sue, with all the dignity she 
could command, but plainly angrier than ever; 
“and we have just moved here.” 

“Susan Pepperpot. Oh, I see!” murmured 
the boy, dreamily. 

“Thad, I’m ashamed of you,” cried his sis- 
ter, her own cheeks flaming. “Indeed, Miss 
Roberts, I hope you will forgive him. He 
really is very nervous. I ... I should 
love such a race myself, and I do hope you 
won’t feel hurt at a sick boy’s irritability.” 

“Indeed, I won’t,” promised Sue, seeing 
tears shining in the dark eyes, her quick sym- 
pathy going out to the girl’s evident distress. 
“Don’t you worry about it at all, for I know 
all about it. After my brother Phil had the 
measles he was a perfect bear; and I guess I 
am somewhat of a pepperpot sometimes — at 
least I was peppery a moment ago. I do hope 
I have n’t made your brother any worse by 
running over you. Good morning. ’ ’ And with 
a bright nod she started off toward town. 

The girl in the pony-carriage leaned out and 
looked after her longingly, then she said: 


54 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“Go on, Toddlekins, go on,’’ and the brown 
pony, at the sound of his mistress’s voice, 
pricked up his ears, and trotted leisurely on 
his way. 

“I wonder who she can be,” thought Sue, 
her cheeks still burning as she walked, soberly 
enough now, toward town. “What a dear, 
dear girl she is! But that boy sick! nervous! 
Nonsense! he’s a crosspatch! Wouldn’t I love 
to take him down a peg or two! Native! Pep- 
perpot! If I’m pepper, he’s tabasco! But 
who can they be? I wonder — oh, I wonder, if 
she could be my parsley-girl! But then any 
one can see that she does n’t belong around 
here, so she could n’t have been. But, oh, if 
she only were! There was something in the 
way she held her head and moved and smiled 
and spoke — what was it? I can’t tell; but it 
was just as if she were used to things, and as if 
you could n’t make her sputter no difference 
what you called her. If that is being ladylike 
it would be worth while. Oh dear, why can’t 
I be like other girls?” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL, 

‘XT’OUR wigwam’s perfectly lovely!” ex- 
X claimed Fanny Spencer, making room on 
the gay divan for Belle Wilkin and Mildred 
Warner. 

“Gorgeous,” cried Avis Taylor, dropping 
among the scarlet pillows in the window seat 
beside Pink Morris; “and oh, Sue, you just 
belong to it, with that dark, proud face of 
yours.” 

“I have never heard of a curly-haired, turn- 
up-nosed Indian in my life, Avis,” laughed Sue, 
as she gave Martha Cutting the only chair and 
seated herself upon the floor. “But for all 
that I wish I had been born one. Anyway I 
shall be as near one as I can. I’ve changed 
my name to S — i — o — u — x, and I shall have 
it on my calling cards. Won’t that be stun- 
ning? If you write to me, don’t forget to ad- 
dress me so. My ! what a glorious life it must 
be ! — ponies, tepees, beadwork, and all that, you 
know,” she ended a little vaguely. “I should 
4 55 


56 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


just love tearing along over the prairie on an 
unbroken mustang, chasing a buffalo, or a cow- 
boy, or something.” 

The girls of Monroe had fallen in love with 
Sue at first sight. She was so care-free, so 
pretty and enthusiastic, so jolly and good- 
natured, that they had lost their hearts to her 
completely. Her slang, her impetuosity, her 
very audacity, had made her only the more at- 
tractive to these girls, who had lived all their 
quiet lives in a sleepy old town. It was with 
the greatest pleasure they had accepted Sue’s 
invitation to spend the afternoon with her at 
Cherryfair and see for the first time her wig- 
wam, and it was with dismay they had found 
Martha Cutting was included in the invitation, 
although Sue had never met her, for Martha 
had just returned from Dexter. 

“She’ll just spoil everything,” grumbled 
Fanny Spencer as she and Pink Morris, perched 
up in her leafy study in the old sweeting tree, 
toiled over their geometry. “She will put on 
her high and mighty air and measure Sue with 
her little foot-rule, just as she does everybody 
else. When I was a little thing I always hated 
to have Martha see my Christmas presents, 
for by the time she got through with them 
you could n’t see them with a microscope. Sha 


VE CHANGED MY NAME TO S-I-O-U- 









« 







THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


59 


dwarfs everything she looks at. She goes 
through the world looking through the wrong 
end of the opera-glass; and, what’s worse, she 
makes you look through it, too.” 

“You mean she looks through the wrong end 
at your possessions. I’ve always noticed that 
anything concerning herself looms up full 
size,” laughed Pink. “Well, it will take more 
than her opera-glasses to dwarf Sue Roberts. 
But, all the same, I wish Sue hadn’t asked 
her. ’ ’ 

Sue found herself wishing so, too, though 
she could n ’t quite tell why, for the pretty little 
blonde, with the big blue eyes and roseleaf 
complexion had been almost gushing in her 
greeting. But, someway, Sue wished, before 
many minutes were over, that she had n’t put 
on the little beaded moccasins, nor let her hair 
hang down in two long braids, nor worn her 
scarlet duck suit with the many strings of 
beads around her neck. When she had dressed 
herself so gaily, she had only felt the fun of 
it all to her very finger-tips and she knew how 
the girls would enjoy it, too. She was Poca- 
hontas, Minnehaha, or Sunny Eye, and had 
danced about on her tiptoes, and given war 
whoops, until Mandy Dobbin had picked her 
up in her strong arms and carried her out of 


60 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


her kitchen, saying she made her laugh so that 
she would never get her work done in the wide 
world if she did n’t take herself and her non- 
sense out of her sight. But now, in spite of 
the other girls’ enthusiastic praise, when Mar- 
tha’s round eyes fell upon her, she felt she 
was only a very silly girl, in a very silly mas- 
querade, and she wished with all her heart she 
had worn her white shirt-waist suit and her 
hair in a club. 

“It must be lovely to live in the wilds like 
that,” sighed Mildred, tossing her hat on the 
floor and settling herself more comfortably. 
“I never saw an Indian in my life, but they 
sound awfully romantic.” 

‘ ‘ I saw several once at Dexter, ’ ’ said Martha 
Cutting. “There was nothing remarkable 
about them, except they were marvelously 
dirty. ’ ’ 

“Well, Sue don’t mean that kind,” inter- 
posed Belle. “Those were partly civilized. 
She meant the real, true, noble red man. The 
sort that is all dignity and war paint, the kind 
you read about in poetry. ’ ’ 

“I did n’t know,” went on Martha, “that the 
squaws ever hunted buffalo ; I thought they did 
all the work, and hoed the corn.” 

“What an awful set of Indians you must 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


61 


have known, Miss Cutting,’ ’ protested Sue, 
good-naturedly. “Now, mine are all courage 
and romance. You may be right and I wrong, 
since, like Mildred, I never saw one, but I like 
my imaginary ones better than your real ones. ’ ’ 

“Yes, indeed; we all do,” said Avis. “Just 
think of Hiawatha ! The blanket on this divan 
is too beautiful to sit on, Sue, I’d hang it on 
the wall for a picture. What a dear your aunt 
was to send all these pretty things to you.” 

“Was n’t she a regular bird,” said Sue, en- 
thusiastically. “Aunt Serena always was a 
peacherina of an aunty, anyway.” 

At this luckless speech Fanny flushed, for 
she saw Martha slightly raise her eyebrows, 
though her smile never changed. She was al- 
ready passing judgment — there could be no 
doubt of that — and for the first time Sue’s pic- 
turesque language grated on Fan’s ear. If 
Sue only would n’t ! 

“Oh, dear,” thought Fan; “I’m beginning 
to look through Martha’s opera-glass, and I just 
won ’t ! ” 

But Sue’s personality was beginning to tell 
upon her critical guest. One could n’t criticise 
all the time a girl who knew how to be so charm- 
ing to her friends and who was so good to look 
at. The cool breeze came stealing through the 


62 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


window to lift the little curls that had escaped 
about Sue’s piquant face, her eyes sparkled, 
her cheeks flushed as she laughed and chatted, 
and Martha, in spite of herself, was swept 
along in the gay rush of Sue’s good fellowship. 

It was while she was serving the sandwiches 
and iced tea that Mandy had just brought up 
that Sue related her astonishing adventure with 
the pony-carriage. 

“Of course, I looked like a perfect idiot,” 
she said, as she finished her tale — she had with- 
held the rude word “native” lest it hurt her 
guests. “But that boy was simply horrid, 
while she was the most charming girl! Now 
does anybody know who they were?” 

“Why, certainly,” they all cried at once. 
“It was Virginia Clayton and her brother 
Thad!” 

“And you are a lucky girl,” laughed Pink, 

‘ ‘ that they deigned to speak at all. It ’s a won- 
der they did n’t run right over you with a 
haughty smile. They are the Claytons, with 
the biggest kind of a C. Martha is the only 
one of us who has ever met them. ’ ’ 

“But who are they?” asked Sue, bewildered, 
not knowing how much was Pink’s mischief and 
how much truth. “I’ve never heard a soul 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


63 


mention them. The girl is a perfect dear, and 
not in the least stuck up.” 

“Well, you see,” explained Martha, “they 
are the children of Dr. Howard Clayton, the 
scientist. They are very rich, their home is in 
New York, and they come out here to Kinikin- 
nick, their beautiful country home, for a month 
or so every spring. This year Thad was very 
ill, so they have been here all summer. Mrs. 
Marshall, their aunt, lives here most of the 
time; and as my aunt in Dexter was an old 
school friend of hers, I went there with her to 
call. Mrs. Clayton is dead, and there are only 
the two children.” 

“Is n’t Miss Clayton the loveliest girl!” 
broke in Sue. “I loved her the moment I saw 
her. She is so sweet and simple, and has such 
lots of style.” 

‘ 4 She has been everywhere, and had so many 
opportunities,” interposed Avis, “but she is n’t 
half so pretty as you are, Sue.” 

“Thank you,” laughed Sue, with a sweeping 
bow. “But don’t make me biggity for I can’t 
really hold a candle to her.” 

“She is exquisitely refined and ladylike,” re- 
marked Martha, pointedly. “I can’t imagine 
her using a word of slang.” Sue flushed, but 
Martha went on calmly: “Yet I don’t really 


64 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


care for her. She is as cold as ice, and she 
has n’ta spark of fnn in her ; but her brother — 
he is very clever, and his father’s idol — was 
lovely to me.” 

“Why, Martha Cutting !’ ’ returned Belle 
Wilkin, helping herself to another sandwich. 
“Everybody says he’s so cross. Look how he 
behaved to Sue ! And he is a regular tyrant to 
Virginia — you told me so yourself. ’ ’ 

“To his sister, perhaps,” replied Martha, 
glancing out coyly from under her long lashes, 
and shrugging her shoulders. “But to me he 
was charming. He took me to see the rose 
garden, and the greenhouses, and said he was 
so sorry he was not strong enough for a game 
of tennis.” 

“Mortal good thing for you, was n’t it, Mat- 
tie?” chuckled Pink, wickedly. “You hardly 
know a racket from the net, do you?” For 
Martha hated games, and hated still more to 
be called “Mattie.” 

Sue, feeling there was something wrong with 
the atmosphere, sprang to her feet and made 
a sudden dive into her closet. “Oh, girls,” 
she cried. “I’ve got something here I want to 
show you. If any one of you can identify it or 
prove property, she shall have — well, my pretti- 
est pair of baby moccasins. Now don’t all 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL 65 

speak at once, ’ ’ and Sue emerged with the pink 
sunbonnet perched on her head. 

“Why, Martha Cutting,” ejaculated Avis. 
“It is exactly like that blue one of yours. It 
is — why, of course, it is, Virginia Clayton’s 
golf-bonnet that you copied. Sue Roberts, 
where did you get it?” 

“It certainly is like the one Miss Clayton 
wore the day I was at Kinikinnick, ” admitted 
Martha reluctantly. 

“Then,” gasped Sue — “Oh, girls, then Vir- 
ginia Clayton is my parsley-girl! Would n’t 
that jar you!” 

“Nonsense, Sue Roberts, nonsense!” ex- 
postulated Fan and Belle. 

“Why, Sue, you don’t understand,” pro- 
tested Avis. < ‘ She is the most uppish girl you 
ever heard of. When we all went out to call 
on her, Mrs. Marshall asked that we excuse 
her as she was engaged, if you please. Why 
she never has a thing to do with us.” 

“Parsley-girl!” inquired Martha, in bewil- 
derment. “Virginia Clayton a parsley-girl!” 

“Do tell her all about it, Sue, and where 
did you get the bonnet!” begged Pink. 

Then Sue told again the whole story of the 
pretty greetings at their first home-coming to 
Cherryfair, and then of the second visit, the 


66 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


finding of the bonnet, and of the girl who had 
waved her hand to Peggy as she climbed the 
fence. 

4 4 Here is the bonnet and here are the verses,’ ’ 
and Sue opened the drawer to her desk. ‘ ‘ They 
are on plain white cards, you see, there is noth- 
ing to identify her.” 

“The fence is just this side of the maple 
grove,” mused Fan. “It is only — but then it 
is perfectly impossible to believe a girl like 
Virginia Clayton would do any thing as — 
friendly and dear and human — and yet — ” 

“And yet, Fan, we don’t know a thing about 
her, really,” argued Avis. “We just have each 
thought things and said them until we really be- 
lieve them, and all the time she may be a dar- 
ling of a girl. What do you think, Martha?” 

“It is utterly impossible,” replied Martha 
decidedly. “The bonnet does look like Miss 
Clayton’s. But what of that, hundreds of girls 
have pink sunbonnets. We don’t any of us 
know her handwriting, and all we do know is 
that a girl climbed a fence toward Kinikinnick. 
She never has taken any interest in our church. 
And how would she know Miss Roberts ’s name 
and the names of her sisters, and about the 
scarlet apron and the black eyes, and how could 
she have gotten all that stuff here from Kini- 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


67 


kinnick, a quarter of a mile away? Why, it is 
perfectly ridiculous ! It may have been Nan 
Blogget, or Cynthia Hall, they live in the same 
direction. ’ ’ 

“That is so likely !” scoffed Pink. “Imagine 
Nan Blogget with a bonnet like that, or Cyn- 
thia Hall writing verses. Guess again, Martha. 
Wasn’t it Bridget O’Harah, or old Farmer 
Dent?” 

“Don’t be absurd, Pink,” returned Martha, 
haughtily. “You know you yourself don’t be- 
lieve Virginia Clayton has been spying around 
here. ’ ’ 

“Spying!” retorted Sue, hotly. “Spying! 
Why it was lovely kindness that she did ! Why 
do you call that spying? I’m not a detective, 
or I should have found her long ago ; but I 
firmly believe that when I do find my parsley- 
girl, it will be at Kinikinnick. ” 

“And I am just as certain that you will not,” 
declared Martha, stubbornly. She had been 
very proud of the fact that she alone of the 
Monroe girls knew the Claytons, and she had 
no desire to share the honor. 

It was at this moment Mandy threw open 
the door and said in a shrill whisper : 

“Here is another young lady, Miss Sue, an’ 
I brought her right up. I guess you will be 


68 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


needin’ some more sandwidges, too, so you bet- 
ter give me the plate an’ I’ll git ’em.” 

And there, just behind Mandy, with cheeks 
flushed, her dark eyes on Sue, stood Virginia 
Clayton. 

“I am so sorry — so very sorry,” faltered 
Virginia. “I did not dream, from what the 
maid said, you were having a party.” 

“I’m not,” exclaimed Sue, her eyes spark- 
ling with pleasure, as she went eagerly forward 
with both hands outstretched. “I’m just hav- 
ing a little afternoon with my friends, and I 
can’t tell you how glad I am that Mandy 
brought you right up. We were just this mo- 
ment talking of you — at least I was,” she added 
with a merry laugh. “I was protesting — but 
there you came just in the nick of time to 
claim — ” and Sue snatched up the little pink 
bonnet. 

“My golf-bonnet!” finished Virginia, smil- 
ingly, her face all rosy with blushes. 

“Then you are— you are my parsley-girl! 
I never can tell you — but there, I shan’t try! 
Please, may I kiss you?” 

“Indeed you may,” laughed Virginia, run- 
ning straight into Sue’s outstretched arms; 
‘ ‘ but what will your friends think of me ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, they all know how I have been pining 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


69 


for my parsley-girl. And now you must allow 
me to introduce you. I think you have met 
Miss Cutting.” 

And before Virginia quite understood it all, 
she was sitting between Pink and Avis, sipping 
her tea, and feeling herself delightfully at home. 

Fanny was stifling with laughter at the sight 
of Martha ’s face. So this was the block of ice, 
the haughty aristocrat — this bright-faced laugh- 
ing girl! Of course, she was a bit shy at 
first, but Sue knew what she was about when 
she put her between Pink and Avis — Pink, 
brimming over with fun, and kindly, gentle 
Avis, whose tongue, like Tennyson’s brook, 
ran on forever. 

“ Please may n’t we know?” she was begging 
now of Virginia. “How did you find out those 
things about Sue? How did you think of it 
all? It was just lovely of you! I really be- 
lieve Sue cared more for her pot of parsley 
than for a whole hothouse full of orchids. ’ ’ 

“Of course I did,” declared Sue, stoutly. 
“It was like a friendly hand held out that day, 
and I loved every green leaf of it ; and now that 
I have really found my parsley-girl— well, I’m 
not going to let her go again in a hurry.” 
Virginia turned a smiling face toward her, but 
someway, Sue imagined there were tears in 


70 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


the dark eyes; so she hastened to add, “But 
not one of you are to know how it all happened. 
It is to be always a secret.’ ’ 

“It is going to be such a secret,” said Vir- 
ginia playfully “that perhaps I’ll take it back 
to Staten Island with rue and never tell a soul. ’ ’ 

“How lovely it must be to live on an island,” 
broke in Fanny, feeling for some reason Vir- 
ginia would rather have the subject changed. 
“And to see the ocean!” 

“It is,” replied Virginia, simply. “Of 
course, I think there never was so beautiful a 
spot as my hilly island. The Kill von Kull 
enters the bay just in front of our house, and 
you can always see the lights of New York and 
the Jersey shore shining like jewels against the 
evening sky; and there are vessels passing all 
day long, from great square riggers, to tiny 
craft with one wee sail that look like toys as 
they float past. Oh, it is ideal in the summer ; 
but when winter comes — ugh! how the wind 
howls across the bay!” 

“Oh dear,” sighed Mildred. “Just think of 
living in such a fairyland as that, and then 
being buried here ! ’ ’ 

“Not at all,” protested Virginia, earnestly. 
“Ohio is beautiful, too. I always think when 
I come back to Kinikinnick that it has its own 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


71 


particular charm, and Aunt Sibyl likes Ohio 
much better than New York. I want to tell 
you,” she went on, flushing, “how sorry I was 
that I could not see you the day you called ; but 
Thad, my brother, was very restless and nerv- 
ous — he has been so ill — and — and — he would 
not let me leave him. But I am going to re- 
turn your calls very soon, as he is much better. 
This is the first afternoon I have been away 
from him, and now that I know you I hope you 
will all come to see me often.” 

“Indeed we shall,” said Avis, “and I know 
we shall all have lovely times together this 
summer. Though I don’t quite know if Sue 
will care to lend you.” 

“Oh, you may have her once in a while if 
you are very good,” laughed Sue. “I hope 
your brother is growing stronger.” 

“Oh, yes, thank you,” replied Virginia, 
gratefully. “It is nice of you to ask after him 
when he was so dreadful the other day. But 
I know you will like him so much when you 
are really acquainted. He is so irritable now, 
because he has had to give up study and all 
hope of entering college next year. The doctor 
had just told him that morning that he must 
not think of it, and so he was struggling with 
his great disappointment.” 


72 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“I am so sorry,” said Sue, remorsefully; “I 
would n’t have been so cross to him for any- 
thing if I had known that. I felt, when we 
were standing in the road, glaring at each other 
you ought to have cried ‘ sic ’em Prince ! ’ I’m 
ashamed of myself.” 

“You don’t need to be,” laughed Virginia. 
‘ ‘ That battle did him a world of good. He was 
so angry that he quite forgot his disappoint- 
ment for a while, and he commissioned me to 
say he hoped you would come over soon and 
give him another round, as he had been in 
better spirits ever since.” 

“Tell him I will come often if that will do 
him any good, and be a real Susan Pepperpot, 
too.” 

“Just as if you were n’t always that!” com- 
mented Fanny, “But, Sue Roberts!” she ex- 
claimed, as she looked at her watch, “why 
did n’t you send us home? It is after five 
o ’clock. ’ ’ 

Sue and Virginia stood in the old gateway 
and waved good-by to the gay bevy of girls, all 
in a flurry of white and pink and green, like 
so many butterflies, as they fluttered a last 
farewell from the turn of the lane. 

“They are such nice girls,” commented Sue, 
as with their arms around each other the two 


THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


73 


girls strolled down toward the orchard wall. 
“I’ve only known them a little while, bnt I just 
love them. I believe we are going to have a swell 
time this summer. There are n’t many boys 
here, but I like that. I would n’t give a penny 
for a boy who was n’t my brother, or somebody 
else’s brother, would you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Virginia, demurely, 
with a twinkle in her black eyes. “I’ve known 
some only sons that were n’t so bad.” 

“Virginia Clayton, you know perfectly what 
I mean,” rebuked Sue, giving Virginia a lov- 
ing pinch. “I like boys in their place. Nice, 
teasing, boyish boys, without any frills and 
quirks — a boy wlio’d say, ‘ Hello, Sue, going 
my way?’ You, know that kind I’m sure.” 

“I do, I do,” laughed Virginia. “But I 
guess you and I have n’t gotten to the frill-and- 
quirk stage. Just now we are too busy getting 
used to our hair being clubbed and to the length 
of our skirts. I don’t believe Miss Cutting 
minds getting grown up. She seems so much 
more — young-ladyfied than the rest. Don’t 
you think so?” 

Sue made a little grimace, and then laughed. 

“There, Virginia Clayton, you were reading 
my mind, and I had meant to be so wise and 
tactful, and not say a word about a ‘just de- 

5 


74 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


parted guest.’ Aunt Serena is always telling 
me that is such bad form. Ugh! don’t you 
hate form, anyway? But to go back to the 
cow-pasture — that’s dreadful slang; please for- 
get I said it — Miss Cutting makes me weary. 
She is six months younger than Fan Spencer, 
and a whole year younger than Belle, but she 
just loves to appear blase and passe and a lot 
of Frenchy things. Fan and Belle play tennis, 
and go driving, and for walks with the boys, 
and Pink and Avis go to parties with them, 
and that’s all right, for they are sixteen — 
Mildred is just my age — but they are nice and 
sensible about it. Mildred is apt to get a bit 
sentimental, but Pink takes her down a peg or 
two, and so they even up nicely. But Martha 
Cutting — why, Virginia, she’s got a train to 
her evening dress, and wears her hair on the 
top of her head, and says 1 gentlemen’ when she 
means boys in knickerbockers. Bah!” 

“She is very pretty. I don’t believe I ever 
saw a more beautiful complexion and her hair 
is like gold. Aunty says she plays and sings 
very well.” 

“I know,” said Sue remorsefully, “and she 
can sew, and paint, and do lots of things I 
can’t do at all; but someway, she rubs me the 
wrong way. Oh Virginia, I wish you did n’t 



«• 




YOU SEE, I WANTED IT TO BE JUST A SECRET BETWEEN US TWO. 









THE PARSLEY-GIRL 


77 


have to go home ! ’ ’ They had reached the wall, 
and Virginia stood swinging her parasol 
daintily by the handle, with her fluffy white 
skirts gathered up about her preparatory to 
climbing the stile. 

4 4 You haven’t told me a word of how you 
knew about me, and, of course, I’m dying to 
know. I did n’t want you to tell me before the 
girls, for I felt — well — ” and Sue stooped to 
tuck in a stray lock of dusky hair under Vir- 
ginia’s big white hat — “you see, I wanted it 
to be just a sweet little secret between us two.” 

“I am going to come over with Toddlekins 
for you to-morrow afternoon,” said Virginia 
lovingly, ‘ ‘ and if you will go, we will take a long 
drive, and I ’ll tell you all about it. ’ ’ 

So it was settled, and Sue sat on the wall and 
watched the little, slender figure in its white 
gown and poppy-wreathed hat until it disap- 
peared in the distance. 

‘ ‘ My parsley-girl is every thing I would have 
her,” said Sue to herself, as she climbed down 
off the wall in answer to Mandy’s vigorous 
calling. “She’s good and bright and jolly and 
pretty and stylish and . . . and . . . 
a lady. Yes, Sue, my dear, that’s it . . . 
a real, true lady. I wonder what she thought 
of me.” 


CHAPTER V 


VIRGINIA 


S Virginia seated herself in the wicker 



ii phaeton, preening herself like a bird, and 
shaking ont the dainty frills of her pale-green 
dimity, Mrs. Marshall, from the veranda, 
thought she had never seen her niece look so 
pretty. The dusky little face, under the big 
green hat with its wreath of hops, was all aglow 
with happiness. The dark eyes had for once 
lost their sadness, the soft red lips curled up 
instead of down, as lonely Virginia’s lips were 
apt to do, and she was really lovely in her 
youth and joy. 

‘ ‘ If you could only look like that all the time, 
sweetheart,” called Aunt Sibyl from the steps. 
“I would n’t need any other sunshine.” 

“Very well, Aunty. I’ll be all shine now I 
have found Sue,” Virginia laughed back, tak- 
ing out her whip, which, with its scarlet bow, 
was only used for that touch of color matching 
the pony’s topknot, since Toddlekins had never 


78 


VIRGINIA 


79 


felt the touch of its lash. 4 4 Just wait until 
you meet Sue, Aunt Sibyl, and you will love 
her as much as I do, she is such a dear girl. ’ ’ 

1 4 Give Miss Susan Pepperpot my compli- 
ments,’ ? chuckled Thad, looking up from his 
book as he lay in the hammock. 4 4 Say, Vir- 
ginia, bring her back to dinner. She is a hun- 
dred times more fun than that Cutting girl. 
Phew! didn’t Sue sputter that day!” 

4 4 Sue does n’t like boys,” remarked Virginia, 
demurely, gathering up the lines. 4 4 At least 
not boys with frills and quirks!” as she drove 
briskly down the road. 

4 4 Now, what did she mean by that, Aunt 
Sibyl?” grumbled Thad, as Mrs. Marshall 
waved Virginia a last farewell and turned a 
smiling face toward the tall, pale boy who 
lounged in the hammock. 4 4 Did she mean Miss 
Pepperpot did n’t like me, or was it that I had 
frills and quirks? What are they anyway? 
Somehow I don’t like the sound of them. Now 
was n’t it just like Nixie to give me that parting 
shot and then drive off where I can’t get at 
her!” 

4 4 Well, Thad, my dear,” laughed Mrs. Mar- 
shall, laying a gentle hand on the boy’s head, 
44 I’ve seen you when you had more frills and 


80 


FEOM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


quirks — for I think I know what Sue means — 
than I like to see. That day with Miss Cutting, 
for instance.’ ’ 

“Oh, I just did that to tease Nixie, Aunt 
Sibyl. I saw she could n’t endure the girl, she 
was so stiffly sweet to her. Girls are always 
like that ; the less they like you, the more polite 
they grow. Nixie acted as if she had stepped 
out of a book on etiquette and frozen stiff ; and 
as she had had one of her tantrums that morn- 
ing and sailed out of the room with her head 
in the air because she thought I was rude to 
her, I took it out on her.” 

“I am afraid you take a good many things 
out on Virginia,” sighed Mrs. Marshall. “You 
are a great deal like Longfellow’s little girl, 
Thad, when you are good you are very, very 
good, and when you are bad you are horrid, 
and since you have been ill it is mostly horrid, 
and it seems to always fall on Virginia.” 

“I’m a beast!” muttered Thad, shielding his 
eyes with his hand. “She’s a mighty good 
sister, but she is so awfully haughty under dis- 
cipline it tempts one. If she would just sail in 
and give me a round or two, instead of walk- 
ing off as if she were on stilts, we’d get on 
better. Sort of clear the atmosphere, you see. 
She has stood by me like a brick through this 


VIRGINIA: 


81 


row, though. Don ’t know how I ’d have weath- 
ered it without her.” 

“Have you told her so?” inquired his aunt, 
seating herself and drawing her work basket 
toward her. 

“Well, no; not in so many words. You see, 
Aunty, Nixie is n’t like you. Now I could go 
to you any time and say, ‘Aunt Sibyl, I’ve be- 
haved like a cad instead of the gentleman you 
have a right to expect me to be. Please shake 
and let’s forgive and forget;’ and you would 
say, ‘ “It’s all forgotten,” cried the hoy, and 
gave his hand with honest joy,’ and that would 
be the end of it. But Virginia, she is n’t of the 
forgetting sort, and the next time I’d fall from 
my perch, she would look at me coldly as much 
as to say, ‘remember, Thad,’ and then I would 
remember, just what I didn’t want to, and feel 
like kicking myself for apologizing. Nixie is 
the dearest girl in the world, but she has n’t 
the slightest tact in managing a man.” 

“A boy, you mean, Thad; a man would n’t 
care for a thing like that. He would think ‘I 
owed my sister an apology, and if she is un- 
fortunate in her way of taking it, that has noth- 
ing to do with my duty.’ See, Thaddeus, my 
son?” 

“I guess you are right,” laughed Thad, 


82 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


reaching out to give Mrs. Marshall’s hand a 
loving pat. “ Anyway you are a mighty nice 
Aunty and never ruffle feathers. Yes, I know 
what you want me to say, by that, queer wise 
smile. I ? ll try,” and Thad turned again to his 
reading. 

To Virginia, as she rolled down the long, 
shady road, it seemed the world had never been 
more beautiful. 

Over to the right, the Tuscarawas river, all 
shimmer and shine, was wandering in and out, 
among the meadows; and beside it, following 
every curve and bend, lay the canal with only 
the grassy towpath between. The willows 
growing on the river’s edge leaned far out and 
gazed like Narcissus, at their beauty, in the 
gleaming water, and upon the surface of the 
canal the water lilies nestled among broad 
leaves. Goshen Hill lifted itself straight and 
precipitous, crowned by giant oaks and hick- 
ories, wrapped about with blackberry bushes 
and hazel brush, while at its feet the wild roses 
hurried away around the bend in a sweep of 
bloom that turned the wayside pink and filled 
the world with fragrance. 

Virginia Clayton had never found it very 
easy to form friendships. ‘ 4 Little Miss Dis- 
dain,” one of her schoolmates had dubbed her, 


VIRGINIA 


83 


and the name had clung in spite of its unfit- 
ness, for Virginia was really never disdainful; 
she was longing for companionship, hut her 
natural diffidence made it hard for her to go 
halfway, and the difficulty she had to forgive 
and forget caused her to cover her hurts with 
that which she intended for dignity, hut what 
those about her were apt to consider scorn. 

Virginia’s mother had been her closest 
friend, and the relation between them had been 
so loving and sweet that the child’s heart was 
almost broken when, two years before, she had 
lost her. Dr. Clayton was a dreamy, scholarly 
man, whose mind was absorbed by his work 
and research; and when Thad, impulsive, teas- 
ing Thad, had suddenly proved himself in the 
academy contest to be a scientist of no mean 
parts, his delight had been so great that his 
heart had been since set upon his promising 
hoy, and Virginia, his quiet little daughter, 
seemed almost forgotten in the lonely old 
house. Even Mrs. Marshall understood the 
outspoken nephew far better than she did the 
reserved, uncomplaining little Virginia, and 
though she loved her fondly, and lectured Thad 
for his thoughtlessness to his sister, had never 
yet found her own way entirely into the girl’s 
lonely heart. 


84 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Virginia had the greatest admiration for her 
brother, and half her heartache came from the 
feeling that he misunderstood her. She longed 
to tell him of her pride in him, of her belief 
in what he would do and be ; but no matter how 
carefully she had prepared her little set speech, 
her tongue always failed her at the auspicious 
moment — which perhaps was as well, for Mas- 
ter Thad was getting quite as much praise as 
was good for him. It had piqued him more 
than he would have confessed, that no differ- 
ence what prize he brought home Virginia had 
never said more than the merest “I’m glad, 
Thad. ’ ’ How should he know that she flew up 
to her room to cry for joy, and that she saved 
every program, every printed word about 
him — -yes — and treasured the prize long after 
he had forgotten its existence? For Thad, 
being his father’s son, had no time for more 
than capture, he was too intent upon the chase. 

When Thad Clayton had suddenly broken 
down from over study, it had been a heavy blow 
to all of them. Dr. Clayton felt he had per- 
haps urged his brilliant boy on faster than had 
been right, mistaking eager enthusiasm for 
strength. To Thad, failure at the beginning of 
his college career was almost more than he 
could bear, and finding himself thwarted for 


VIRGINIA 


85 


the first time in his life he accepted his defeat 
with very bad grace indeed. It was Virginia 
who had stepped into the breach and taken 
upon herself all she could of her father’s sor- 
row and her brother’s ill-temper. When the 
doctor told them that Thad must at once be 
gotten away from the water, it was Virginia 
who decided they would better spend the whole 
summer at Kinikinnick, instead of the month 
or two as was usual, though the summer by 
the sea was her delight. It was she who had 
comforted her father, and sent him back to 
his laboratory as soon as Thad was better, and 
it was she who had undertaken her brother’s 
amusement during his convalescence; and if 
she was not at all times strong enough to keep 
from having tantrums, as Thad called her at- 
tacks of hurt dignity, she was at least trying 
with all her might to be “good,” and her 
brother recognized the fact. 

As Toddlekins trotted up the lane to Cherry- 
fair, there arose such shrieks of merry greet- 
ing that the little fellow stopped still in the 
middle of the road, shaking his beribboned 
head and pawing the ground with an impatient 
forefoot refusing to move even at the cracking 
of the gay whip. 

Davie and Ben sat astride the big balls of 


86 


FEOM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


the gate-posts, Phil, silent, but happy, was hid- 
den safely among the leafy branches of his 
favorite tree; Peggy stationed on the veranda, 
danced up and down, crying : 4 4 Here she comes, 
Sue; here she comes/ ’ and only Betty, the 
proper, sat quiet and demure, swinging herself 
daintily in the hammock, her white skirts 
spread out, her flushed face bent over a book, 
not a leaf of which had been turned in the last 
half-hour. 

4 4 Is Sue ready ? ’ ’ called Virginia, gaily. 4 4 If 
she is n’t, here is a pony that would like to give 
two little boys a drive down the lane and back 
again . 9 ’ 

Davie and Ben stayed not upon the order of 
their going but went at once. Like small cy- 
clones they 4 4 shinned” down the gate-posts and 
flung themselves bodily upon Virginia and 
Toddlekins. 

4 4 Oh, you did n’t mean it!” gasped Davie, 
looking up into Virginia’s face, his blue eyes 
fairly limpid with longing, the left one turned 
in a bit, giving a most bewitching twist to his 
glance that had served the rogue many a good 
turn. 4 4 Sue’s ready. She has been ready 
since daylight, I guess. But we did n’t none of 
us ever ride with a pony in our born days; an’ 
Ben, he’s only a little chap, an’ it would be aw- 



BETTY, THE PROPER, SAT QUIET AND DEMURE 



VIRGINIA 89 

ful nice for him, hut I guess you better let me 
drive. I’m ’most eight.” 

Bennie, having climbed in after hugging 
Toddlekins’ shaggy head and kissing his vel- 
vety nose, had reached for the lines, and there 
was a quiver of his lower lip as Davie made his 
modest request. 

“I’ll tell you,” laughed Virginia, “you drive 
down the lane, and Bennie up, and Phil is to 
walk at Toddlekins ’ head to see that he be- 
haves himself and turns all right, while I have 
a little chat with Betty and Peggy. Hurry up, 
please, for I must not keep Sue waiting.” 

Betty, beaming with pleasure, drew her stiff 
little skirts aside to make a place for Virginia. 
The child, happy in the glimpse of her sister’s 
friend, a girl with a real pony-carriage, had 
gotten herself up “regardless,” as Sue said. 
The ruby ring blazed on her forefinger which 
was stuck out straight, as if to emphasize any 
remark she might make. She had traded dish- 
washings with Peggy for the privilege of wear- 
ing the gold beads; a pair of old white boots, 
a size too small, cramped her feet, and her 
blonde hair, from being done up in rag knobs 
all night — fluffed out in the manner of the side- 
show Circassian lady. 

“You’d jiardly know it was Betty,” com- 


90 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


plained Peggy to Sue when she caught her 
first glimpse of her twin ; for Betty had locked 
herself up and accomplished her toilet alone. 
“I think you are lots prettier with your hair 
in braids and with shoes you can straighten 
your feet in, Betty. You walk just like a hen! 
Virginia will think you ’re a silly! Won’t she, 
Sue?” 

“No, she won’t,” replied Sue, confidently, as 
she fluffed her pompadour before the misty old 
looking glass. “She was a little girl herself 
once, and knows just how it feels to want to 
look lovely and not know how. You haven’t 
got there yet, Peggy; for you are two years 
behind Betty in feelings, if you are twins. I 
had an awful case of it myself a year or two 
ago. Betty looks like a guy, but never mind, 
she’s happy. Oh, Peggy, do bring me the ink 
’til I black the white thread I mended my glove 
with, the stitches gap ’til they look like teeth 
grinning at you ! ’ ’ 

As Sue, followed by Peggy, came down the 
steps toward the big maples where Virginia 
and Betty swung in the shade, Virginia thought 
she had never seen a girl so vibrant with life, 
so joyous, so buoyant as Sue. 

“You look lovely sitting there among all 
those cool, green ruffles and under that big 


VIRGINIA 


91 


green hat!” Sue exclaimed, “like a dear bud, 
that is going to burst into a flower right away. 
Oh, I am so happy we are going ! I never rode 
in a pony-carriage before. This is Peggy, my 
other little sister; I see you know Betty and 
the boys. It is just lovely of you to let them 
take the pony; they’ll never forget it. Some- 
way, we are always having the most beautiful 
things happen to us! Now here are Cherry- 
fair, and the flock, and Mandy, and, best of 
all — you. Why, do you know, I could n ’t sleep 
last night planning all the nice times we’ll have. 
I was so remorseful over your brother ! I shall 
make him some of my very best fudge, and 
we’ll have picnics, and oh, every thing!” 

Virginia felt that in some sweet way she be- 
longed to every one of them ; to the three happy, 
shouting boys who were now coming scamper- 
ing up the lane; to the twins — Betty with her 
absurd finery, but whose loving little hand was 
tucked in hers, to Peggy, whose round face was 
all aglow with admiration — and to Sue — dear 
Sue — who was offering her simple hospitality, 
her friendship, her family, her good cheer, with 
such a prodigal hand. Dear Sue, who was so 
pretty and fascinating in her simple white suit 
and her sailor hat! 

“And now I want you to come in and meet 


92 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Masie, please,’ ’ went on Sue. “You will find 
her the dearest of mothers, and you shall have 
a share of her and of father, too.” 

“And a share in the pig, too,” whispered 
Bennie, who, afraid something might happen 
without his seeing or hearing, had torn him- 
self away from Toddlekins and was now snug- 
gling himself in between Virginia and Sue, as 
they turned toward the house, the twins hav- 
ing gone for their little drive. 

“I never heard of such generosity,” laughed 
Virginia with a choke in her voice. “You 
don’t know how happy it makes me. Do you 
really mean you won’t mind sharing with me, 
and will let me belong and come inside your 
happiness ?” 

“Indeed, indeed, we’ll love it,” cried Sue, 
giving Virginia an ecstatic little squeeze in 
which Bennie quite disappeared. 

“Masie, here is Virginia Clayton, my pars- 
ley-girl; and, please, I have promised her a 
share in you, because — well, I’m sure every 
girl needs mothering.” 

Then Virginia felt herself taken into loving 
arms, and a sweet face, all motherliness, looked 
into hers, as a soft voice said: “My child, if 
mothering is what you need, you can’t come too 


VIRGINIA 93 

often nor stay too long. Indeed, yon shall have 
your plaee in my little flock.’ ’ 

6 6 1 don ’t believe there ever was such a family 
before,” whispered Virginia, clinging close. 
“You are all so good and kind.” 

“Who began it?” asked Mrs. Roberts, softly 
kissing the little brown face. “Who set sweet 
messages all about the house, and thought of 
the comfort and pleasure of the stranger within 
her gates? Just tell me that, please; and al- 
ways be sure, dear, that we need you quite as 
much as you need us, and if I can give you any 
comfort for the loss of your dear mother, I 
shall be so glad and happy ; so come often, Vir- 
ginia. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VI 


THE DKIVE 

G OOD-BY! good-by !” called the children, 
swarming in the old gateway. “Good- 
by! good-by!” cried Sue and Virginia, and 
away scampered Toddlekins down the lane. 

“That,” laughed Sue, poking with the tip 
of her parasol a fat little package that Mandy 
had run out to tuck in the phaeton at the last 
moment, “ is ‘ sandwidges, ’ as Mandy calls them, 
she whispered to me she just knew we’d get 
‘faint for a bite.’ So, now that there is no dan- 
ger of us dying of hunger on this trip, let ’s 
have the time of our lives.” 

Down through the valley, up over the hills, 
through woodland roads, across bridges, by 
country lanes and shady dells, they jogged, 
and over them the blue sky, about them the 
summer greenery, and in their hearts the joys 
of girlhood. 

It was delightful to hear of so many joyful 
happenings as Sue had to tell about. It 
seemed, to listen to her, that the Robertses had 
94 


THE DRIVE 


95 


been the most favored of mortals ; and yet when 
yon had unwrapped Sue’s enthusiasm from 
each especial dispensation, it was apt to prove 
a very common everyday, little providence. 
But Sue knew how to get to the very core of 
joy, and so she chatted away, never knowing — 
nor would she have cared if she had known — 
that she was disclosing to a rich girl that she 
knew absolutely nothing of the ease, the luxury, 
the beauty with which Virginia had been sur-> 
rounded all her life. 

“Sue Roberts,” asked Virginia at last, when 
they were breathless with laughter over some 
absurd prank of Davie’s, “did you ever have 
a sad hour? I never dreamed a person could 
be so happy. Don ’t you ever get blue and hate 
yourself? But, then, I suppose there are such 
a lot of you, and you all love each other so, you 
have no chance to grow gloomy.” 

“Do I get blue? Why, bless you, yes! I 
get so blue sometimes I could almost sell my- 
self for indigo. Masie says a nature like mine, 
with such an upside would have to have a 
downside, too. I’m just like a teeter-board. 
I go up, up, up ’til I almost touch the stars; 
then I go down, down, down ’til they have to dig 
me out of the cellar. I am mostly up now, but it 
took a long time for Masie to get me to a little 


96 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


more of a level, and sometimes I come down 
now with an awful thump. But, you see, God 
has been so good to us I would be a most un- 
grateful wretch to be blue often.” 

“Sue,” began Virginia again. It was so 
hard for her to talk out of her heart, and yet 
she longed for Sue to know and understand. 
“I mean, do you ever feel as if ... as if 
no soul in the world appreciates you . . . 

as if you would like to creep away and never 
try any longer . . . and as if your heart 

were an old, cold stone and didn’t love any- 
body or want to he loved?” 

“Of course, honey, lots of times. That’s 
what Masie calls ‘girlism.’ She says every 
girl she ever knew had touches of it, and it 
does n’t mean a thing, but that you are pretty 
sentimental and maybe your stomach is out of 
order. Masie says there is only one sure cure 
for it and that’s to go and do something kind 
for somebody else, quick. But sometimes I 
forget about the cure and am dreadful. Gra- 
cious, Virginia, I’ve gone and shut myself up 
in a closet, and cried my eyes ’most out over 
not one blessed thing, when I had really 
thrashed it all out. At the time it looked as 
big as Goshen Hill. Betty has severe attacks, 
but so far Peggy does n ’t know she ’s a heart to 


THE DRIVE 


97 


ache — but she will. Goodness! yes, that’s part 
of the joy of being a girl, for, honest, Virginia, 
one does get a sort of satisfaction out of it. 
It feels so painfully nice to think you are the 
only one in the world that is so abused or has n’t 
a single friend, when, all the time, you know 
deep down in yourself, there are lots that just 
dote on you. Don’t ask me to explain; it’s 
just girl, and you have got to let it go at that.” 

“Oh, Sue!” and Virginia laughed ruefully 
in spite of herself. “I think you are the dear- 
est girl that ever lived. I never dared ask any 
one before. I suppose if I had mama, she 
would have explained, just like your Masie, 
and have made it funny to me. But I did n’t 
suppose other girls knew about it — not happy 
girls, with mothers.” 

Sue’s arm stole around Virginia, and the 
laughing face changed in an instant. 

“That’s different — the mother-sickness. I 
know that must be so hard, the greatest of all 
sorrows ; but I meant the not being appreciated 
and the hating one’s self. When I’m clothed 
and in my right mind I know I am appreciated 
far more than I deserve. I’m just a slam-bang 
girl, that troubles father so — and I won’t mend 
skirt bindings nor keep my temper. Oh, I’ve 
got lots of reasons to hate myself; but, after 


98 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


all, what’s the use? Father always says the 
best way is to get up and go on doing better, 
and not to sit down and cry by the wayside, for 
you would never get anywhere that way. I can 
tell you, Virginia, it takes lots of managing to 
make six kids grow up into sheep instead of 
goats, though you might n’t think so. I wonder 
sometimes that father and mother don’t throw 
up the sponge.” 

“Sponge?” inquired Virginia, wrinkling her 
brow in an effort to understand. “What good 
would that do?” 

‘ ‘ There, ’ ’ laughed Sue, half ashamed. ‘ 4 That 
is my pet sin, my slang. I mean I wonder they 
don’t give up trying. But, Virginia, here I 
have been talking all this time about myself; 
I thought you were going to tell me how you 
came to be parsley-girl. I’m just dying 
to hear. Let’s eat the ‘sandwidges’ while you 
tell about it.” 

When they were settled with a napkin and 
sandwich, and Toddlekins was brought to a 
walk, Virginia began: 

“I suppose I ought to say, ‘once upon a 
time,’ to make it sound like a story,” she 
laughed ; ‘ ‘ but it really did begin with my being 
blue and all that . . . that is the reason I 

asked you about it. When Thad was taken 


THE DRIVE 


99 


sick in the early spring, I was at Miss Davis’s 
school for girls in New York, and we came 
right out' here. I had liked the girls at Miss 
Davis’s so much, and was very lonely, and 
Thad . . . well, he was nervous and I am 

dreadfully sensitive, I know, and I could n’t go 
to Aunt Sibyl with my woes, for she had her 
hands full with father, and Thad sick, and the 
servants and all. I don’t know what I should 
have done if I had n’t found the dearest baby! 
She belongs to Mrs. Dixon, whose husband 
takes care of Kinikinnick farm. Mrs. Dixon 
is such a dear, kind woman, and she let me 
take baby every morning for a canter down the 
drive on Toddlekins. Baby is just two years 
old, and the cunningest thing. Well, I think 
Mrs. Dixon saw I was lonely and blue, and she 
used to tell me all the gay things she could 
think of. She belongs to your father’s church, 
and her sister is maid at Mr. Reed’s, where 
your father was staying when he came to supply 
the pulpit in the early spring. Now can’t you 
see how I heard about Sue, and the twins, and 
all .the rest of you happy folks? We talked so 
much about you that I loved you more and 
more, and so did Mrs. Dixon. The day the 
congregation worked at the house, Mrs. Dixon 
was too busy to go, but she said if I would 


100 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


come after tea we would walk over to Cherry- 
fair and she would take the lilies-of-the-valley 
and some jelly. I don’t know what made me 
think of it, unless it was because you had grown 
so real and dear to me ; but that day when I ran 
down to the housekeeper’s room for something, 
I saw two pots of parsley growing in the win- 
dow, and so I begged one of Mrs. Knox — she is 
always so good to me — and a new tea-towel; 
she was just hemming a lot of new ones. Then 
I ran to my room and dashed off those crazy 
verses and flew over to Mrs. Dixon. We took 
baby on Toddlekins and had such a pleasant 
time. We climbed into the kitchen window — 
Mrs. Dixon’s sister had left it open for us — 
and that is all.” 

“But that is n’t all,” cried Sue, giving Vir- 
ginia a rapturous hug, “it is only the begin- 
ning. How about the lunch, and the pink sun- 
bonnet, and my eyes, and the apron? It was 
like a miracle!” 

“Why, it was just as simple, when you know 
about it,” laughed Virginia. “You see that 
morning, when I went over to take the baby for 
her ride, Mrs. Dixon told me you had come, and 
that she was longing to take you over a nice 
lunch, but that her husband could not spare a 
horse, and it was too far to walk. Then I 


THE DRIVE 


101 


asked her if I could n’t take it in a hamper 
strapped on Toddlekins, going across the wood- 
lot, tie him just on the other side of the maple 
grove and then carry the hamper the rest of 
the way. She was afraid that I could n’t man- 
age Toddlekins, and that the hamper would be 
too heavy, but I was just crazy to do something, 
and I suspect she thought it would do me good, 
and so in half an hour I was started.” 

“You darling! how I wish I had been along!” 

“Carrying your own lunch, you greedy 
thing? Well, I meant to set the hamper down 
and run away as fast as I could; but the first 
thing I found was the whole family out on the 
veranda. I was so near I could almost have 
touched you. I could just hear my heart beat 
as I hid down behind a lilac bush; but pretty 
soon you went upstairs, and the plan rushed 
into my head, for I heard you telling your 
mother about putting the boards on the barrel, 
and it seemed so nice to be able to leave the 
lunch all laid for you.” 

“Oh, what fun,” laughed Sue; “and there 
you were hidden away ! What would you have 
done if we had spied you?” 

“I never thought of that until afterwards, 
it all happened so quickly; and 1 everything 
seemed to help, for you all went to the front 


102 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


part of the house, and I got the luncheon ready 
in a trice. I had meant to leave some sort of 
a verse, I ’m always scribbling nonsense, so had 
a card along; and the black eyes and scarlet 
apron I had seen from my hiding-place, so 
everything went lovely. You would never have 
gotten a glimpse of me, if I had not stopped to 
throw in some purslane to that funny little 
curly-tailed pig, who was squealing like mad. 
I thought it was no more than fair I should 
give him his luncheon, too ; and when I turned 
around I saw you children all come tumbling 
out of the house! Then if I did n’t scamper! 
keeping close by the wall as long as I could. I 
lost my bonnet as I climbed over the stile, but 
I had n’t time to get it, and ran on. Just as I 
came to the fence where Toddlekins was tied 
out of sight in the bushes, I looked back and 
there was Peggy, waving the bonnet and calling 
something I could n’t hear. She looked so 
pretty standing on the stile, I could n’t help 
waving back to her, and then I climbed over the 
fence, and Toddlekins and I flew home. Mrs. 
Dixon scolded me next morning, and said she 
would have been broken-hearted if you had 
caught me hiding there and had said something 
sharp to me. But I told her she did not know 
the Robertses yet, if she thought that; for I 


THE DRIVE 103 

knew I would have been welcomed with open 
arms.” 

‘ ‘ Indeed, indeed, you should have been. It is 
the most delightful thing I ever heard : Did n’t 
Thad laugh when you told him!” 

Virginia flushed. 

“No, he didn’t. I told him the day after, 
and he said he did n ’t think my father would ap- 
prove of my flying about the country carrying 
‘cold provender.’ I am awfully sensitive, and 
I guess that at last we quarreled, at least. I 
did n’t speak to him all the evening. But when 
Aunt Sibyl asked what was the matter, she said 
she did n’t think father would have cared at 
all, and that she herself thought it great fun, 
and if I had told her she would have gone 
along. ’ ’ 

“There, that settles it!” declared Sue, ve- 
hemently. “Aunt Sibyl and I are friends, but 
between Thad and Susan Pepperpot there is 
war to the knife!” 

“Nonsense! You will be the best of friends. 
He said I was to be sure to bring you home to 
dinner. I told him you did n’t like boys with 
frills and quirks. You will find he has a good 
many, but he really is a dear boy, and we are 
very proud of him. I know he did act dread- 
fully that day you ran into us ; but, you see, he 


104 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


had been as cross as could be all morning, for, 
poor boy, he was battling with his weakness 
and his disappointment. He had felt sure they 
would let him go to college this fall, as he 
thought he was so much better. I was afraid 
you would never want to see me again when he 
was sp horrid to you, and . . . and . . . 

I was very lonely for a girl friend.” 

“ Bless your heart! You have one now, and 
don’t you forget it. I shall stick closer than a 
burr. Besides, it would take more than such a 
little tiff as that with your brother to frighten 
me. My! was n’t he sarcastic! But I suppose 
I deserved it.” 

“No, you did n’t,” protested Virginia. “It 
was Thad’s quick temper; but he is such a dear 
boy under it all.” 

‘ ‘ Did I tell you, I am going to spell my name 
S-i-o-u-x after this?” said Sue, when Toddle- 
kins was trotting up the lane toward Cherry- 
fair. “Masie let me order some calling cards 
from a little lame boy in Monroe ; he writes them 
in a most beautiful, flourishy hand, and I never 
had any cards before. I never told a word of it 
at home, for I want to surprise them — but I told 
Jimmie to put on Sioux Roberts. It will be 
awfully striking. Don’t you think so?” 

“I don’t believe I ever heard of such a thing 


THE DRIVE 


105 


before,” faltered Virginia, looking very puzzled. 
“I didn’t know one ever wanted calling cards 
to look striking. You ought to be Miss Rob- 
erts, of Cherryfair, ought you not?” 

“Pooh! that might do for Betty,” scoffed 
Sue, airily. “I never go in for any silly old 
conventions. I like something individual and 
sort of stunning. My! I don’t believe I will 
ever get to be Miss Roberts. I’m sure I don’t 
feel like it now. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VII 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 

T HE friendship between Virginia Clayton 
and Sue Roberts grew and strengthened 
through the long summer weeks. There was 
hardly a day passed that Sue did not go skip- 
ping across the meadow and on through the 
maple grove to Kinikinnick, nor Virginia come 
flying up the lane on Toddlekins, who vied now 
with the pig in the little boys’ affections. In- 
deed, Toddlekins was the pet of everybody at 
Cherryfair ; even Mandy Dobbin, since she had 
found he would eat a cruller from her hand, 
had given him her whole heart. 

Virginia said Toddlekins never raised his 
feet so gingerly, nor tossed his head so coyly, 
as when Sue and she tucked themselves into 
the phaeton for one of their long drives. The 
girls of Monroe were always on the outlook for 
the gay little turnout, and many a hit of girlish 
gossip was exchanged across the yellow wheels. 
Then, too, there were the most delightful days 
spent at Cherryfair with all the “Jolly Octet,” 
106 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 


107 


as the girls had named themselves. Then there 
were the dainty teas on the shady verandas of 
the Monroe homes, and the never-to-be-forgot- 
ten afternoons at Kinikinnick. For while Vir- 
ginia was the sort of a girl that wonld wish to 
keep her dearest friend all to herself — had she 
allowed her own desires to rule — to Sue it was 
the more the merrier. To he sure, she loved 
the little heart to heart talks with Virginia, and 
the quiet drives, but she reveled in the babble 
_of many girlish tongues, the laughter and the 
clatter when Pink, Fanny, Belle, Avis, Mildred 
and Martha were with them. Yes, even Martha ; 
for, as Sue once laughingly confided to Thad, 
there was great charm to her being with 
Martha, in the delightful uncertainty of what 
would happen, for one never could tell when the 
match would reach the powder can. So far 
there had been no open rupture, owing to 
Martha’s suavity and Sue’s good humor; but 
the two girls’ natures were as opposed as the 
poles and each disliked the other most heartily. 

“Some day,” Fan Spencer would say sagely, 
“some day the feathers will fly.” 

( 1 And oh ! And oh ! May I be there to see ! ’ ’ 
chuckled Pink, whose open admiration for Sue, 
and teasing mischief were Martha’s daily cross. 

“You are a regular monkey with your tricks, 


108 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Pink Morris,” she had said bitingly, one day, 
while they both stood at Avis Taylor’s gate, 
Pink having been more tantalizing than usual. 

“I’d rather he a monkey any time than a pea- 
cock,” replied Pink, skipping off gaily down 
the street, leaving gentle Avis to quell 'the 
storm she knew would follow her remark. 

Martha Cutting was considered, until Sue’s 
arrival, the prettiest girl in Monroe; and she 
Certainly was the most talented, singing and 
playing very well for a girl of her age. Beside 
this, Martha had an air of gentle refinement 
that was very pleasing to the quiet folk among 
whom she lived. Sue sang better, played as 
well, was prettier, because more vivacious, and 
she had a heart full of love and cheer for every 
living creature. Each girl had her friends and 
admirers, and if it had not been for Virginia 
Clayton’s advent it is doubtful if there would 
ever have been any bitter feeling between the 
girlish rivals. But that Virginia Clayton — the 
one girl Martha should have really cared for 
as an intimate friend — should want Sue Rob- 
erts as a chum, that Virginia with all her charm 
and advantages should choose a “slangy, tom- 
boyish, loud, blowsy girl like that, was more 
than she could understand,” as Martha had 
once ventured to say to Avis Taylor, and Avis, 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 


109 

that gentle, timid white pigeon of a girl, had 
turned upon her in a way she did not soon 
forget. 

i ‘ Sue loud ! Sue blowsy ! Slangy she is, and 
maybe a bit of a tomboy, but she is the dearest, 
truest, most unselfish soul that ever lived, 
Martha Cutting !” Avis’ cheeks were flaming 
and her eyes full of tears. “It is all your 
wicked jealousy! Virginia chose her as Sue 
chose Virginia, because they were suited in 
their hearts. Virginia is wise enough to see 
under Sue’s slang all that is dear and good, and 
Sue — Sue, with her loving heart, knows how to 
get under Virginia’s reserve. We all love Sue, 
but you, Martha, and I advise you never to say 
that sort of thing to Pink or Fan, or you’ll be 
left out of all our good times.” 

Avis ’ indignation would carry her no farther 
and she hurst into tears. Martha, girl-like, 
never admired Avis more than at that moment, 
for she really loved her dearly, and had bullied 
and petted her ever since they were little tots ; 
so, cuddling her in the hammock, she wept with 
her in sympathy and the breach was healed, for 
that time at least. 

But while there was much that was lovely in 
Sue’s life that summer, there were worries, too, 
and some that troubled her not a little. Betty 
7 


110 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


and Peggy were happy in their own little 
friendships and the reflected glory of Sue’s 
good time, for if that young person had an espe- 
cial virtue, it was her ability to be a good sister, 
and the twins never felt left out in the cold 
when the “ Octet” met at Cherryfair, and, be- 
ing sensible little maidens, they knew how to 
retire into the background upon occasions — 
would that Bennie had! He could be a cross, 
and Sue’s eyes flashed and Bennie’s fat legs 
flew yrhen she discovered him stealthily picking 
the icing from the picnic cake, or cozily en- 
sconced among the fresh pillows of the ham- 
mock, with his bare feet on Martha Cutting’s 
pale blue organdy. But, after all, when Mandy 
Dobbins had stifled, with a ginger cooky, his 
squeals of outraged feelings, at being so igno- 
miniously put out, Sue’s conscience had hurt 
her so that she read “a mile of ‘Tar-Baby,’ ” 
sang two miles of “Mr. Dooly,” and “rocked 
clear from Cherryfair to New York that very 
night,” as she afterwards confided to Virginia. 

To Phil this was one long summer of ecstasy. 
In the first place, he had found in Cedric Adams 
a boy after his own heart. A boy who doted on 
the Henty books, electric batteries, and toy 
dynamos; a boy who knew how to read and 
keep still when you wanted to do the same, and 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 


111 


who tabooed all girls except sisters ; a boy who 
could fish by the hour and never utter a word, 
but who could yell like a Comanche if the oc- 
casion demanded; a boy who would help you 
weed your garden, if you helped him weed bis, 
and who was, as Sue expressed it, “Johnny- 
on-the-spot in every game from one-o-cat to 
'football.” Secondly, Tbad Clayton, interested 
in the two lads from Sue’s vivid description of 
their half silent, wholly devoted friendship, had 
offered them the loan of any book in his library, 
and had also invited the boys to come over 
every Saturday afternoon that he might give 
them a little talk on electricity with some ex- 
periments. 

But Sue’s worry had to do with none of this. 
It was father, dear, merry father, who, through 
all his troubles had always a joke and* a smile 
for his little folks. 

“It’s no use to depress them,” he would say 
to Masie — for his throat grew worse and 
worse. “Poor dears, they may have it hard 
enough before long.” But this was only when 
the pain was very bad indeed ; usually he would 
snatch up little Mrs. Roberts instead and perch 
her on his shoulder and carry her downstairs 
and out into the sunshine, to the delight of the 
children, and it would end in a great romp and 


112 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


everybody would join bands and dance around 
the big bell-flower tree and sing with all their 
merry might: 

“Whoopsy saw, sine craw, 

The Robertses come to town, 

With troubles a-plenty, but never a frown, 

Their laughter goes up and no tears run down, 
Whoopsy saw, sine craw, 

When the Robertses come to town!” 

which would cause good, kind Mandy to draw 
her hand across her eyes and say: 

‘ 4 They ’re jest the happiest, cheerfullest, get- 
the-most-out-of-nothin’est lot that ever drawed 
breath. God bless ’em every one!” 

Yet one may sing and dance when one’s heart 
is very heavy, and hearts were heavy at Cherry- 
fair, for there were money worries, too, that 
grew worse and worse. 

But it began to look more and more as if 
they should have to give up Mandy Dobbins, 
and Mandy ’s round face and cheeriness had 
grown very dear to them all; and, too, there 
began to be very grave doubts as to the possi- 
bility of Sue’s going away to school that au- 
tumn, though it had been understood for years 
that at fifteen she was to have her first flight 
out of the home nest, and it had been a very 
alluring prospect. It was all the harder for 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 


113 


her to give it up, since she knew if she stayed 
in Monroe her father would insist upon her 
entering the High School, and as is usual with 
minister’s children who have been moved from 
post to pillar, she would be behind in the re- 
quired studies, and so unable to enter the grad- 
uating class with the other girls. 

- So it was a very forlorn Sue who walked up 
the drive to Kinikinnick one hot August after- 
noon — so forlorn, indeed, that Virginia came 
flying down the steps to meet her with a scared 
face and anxious inquiry. 

“ 4 All’s quiet along the Potomac,’ ” Sue an- 
swered laughingly, returning her kiss. “I’ve 
got the black dog on my shoulder, that is all.” 
Then, tempted by Virginia’s unspoken sym- 
pathy and Mrs. Marshall’s kind welcome, Sue 
did the very thing she had n’t intended, and told 
them all about it. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Sue, ’ ’ cried Virginia, her face all aglow 
with gladness. “It is a real coincidence — just 
this morning I got a letter from father, saying 
Miss Davis will not open her school this year, 
and that I can make my own choice and go 
wherever I please; for he has decided to take 
Thad to South America for the winter, and I’d 
be a good deal in the way on a trip like that. 
Oh, please, Sue, let’s take the money it would 


114 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


cost for a fashionable school in New York, and 
both of ns go to some nice cheaper school out 
here in Ohio. Then we could come home for 
Christmas — for father and Thad won’t be back 
before next June — and we could have a beautiful 
time together. Would n’t that be fine, Aunt 
Sibyl?” 

“I think that is a very good idea, Virginia,” 
answered Mrs. Marshall, who had grown very 
fond of Sue, and believed the friendship was 
doing both girls much good. “I’m sure your 
father would be perfectly willing. Do you 
think, Sue, your father and mother would con- 
sent ? ’ ’ 

“I am sure I don’t know,” replied Sue, sim- 
ply. “It is as sweet and dear of Virginia as 
can be, but whether father and mother con- 
sented or not, I could n’t do it. I can’t explain, 
but there is a feeling that would n’t let me. 
Please understand, I am so grateful.” 

“But I don’t want your gratitude, Sue,” 
begged Virginia. “It would only be being 
good to me, and I don’t understand a bit. Why, 
Sue, it is n’t like you when we are such chums. 
Have n’t we promised to be friends forever and 
ever, and name our oldest daughters after each 
other, and be buried in the same graveyard?” 

Yet nothing would move Sue, neither Vir-i 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 


115 


ginia’s passionate pleading, Mrs. Marshall’s 
persuasion, nor even Thad’s teasing when he 
came upon the scene — there was what Virginia 
called a great fighting friendship between Thad 
and Sue, for they had quarreled on almost every 
known subject — but even Thad failed to change 
her resistance. 

“She don’t want to be seen with you, Vir- 
ginia,” teased Thad. “She’s ashamed of your 
Staten Island style. She does n’t like you be- 
cause you have lost your R’s. Isn’t that it, 
Susie?” 

“No it is n’t, Thad Clayton,” retorted Sue, 
half amused, half angry. “I think there is no 
girl on earth like Virginia, and I would be so 
happy I’d dance from here to Jericho to go to 
school with her, but I’m afraid it would spoil 
our lovely friendship to accept such a favor. 
And then for her to give up her fine school and 
go to some dinky little place with me! Oh, I 
can ’t accept it ! I can’t! I can’t!” 

“But Sue,” said Virginia, stiffening a bit 
against what she thought Sue’s obstinacy, “if 
I would accept it of you? You said once that 
one ought to give others a chance to be unselfish 
once in a while, and that it was quite as beauti- 
ful to accept graciously as to give graciously.” 

“Did I? Well, then, I must have been talk- 


116 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


ing through my hat. Oh, Virginia, how that 
sounded,’ ’ cried poor Sue, for in spite of her 
independence and love of slang, she never ut- 
tered a word of it before Mrs. Marshall that 
she did not wince. As for Thad, that teasing 
boy reveled in Sue’s unconventional speeches, 
and nothing pleased him better than to get her 
to break out in some startling expression. But, 
after all, Thad’s heart was far from hard; and 
seeing he had Virginia on the verge of a ‘ 1 tan- 
trum” and Sue near tears, he veered suddenly 
to kindness and said : 

“Look here, girls; I am only teasing. Now 
just let your grandfather tell you something; 
this will all straighten itself out, so don’t go 
to getting mad about it, for it will come out all 
right some day.” 

But though Thad was at his merriest in this 
boyish peacemaking and Mrs. Marshall did her 
best to make them forget their difference, there 
was a decided quiver in Sue’s voice when she 
bade Virginia good night, and the two girls 
parted with the nearest approach to coldness 
that had ever come between them. 


“Virginia! Virginia!” surely that was Sue’s 
voice. 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 


117 


Virginia, who was just dressing for luncheon, 
stood listening. 

“Virginia! Virginia !” it was Sue — it was! 
Throwing on her red kimona and doing up her 
hair with one pin, Virginia rushed to the win- 
dow. Sue, her face flushed with running, her 
eyes dancing with joy, stood on the lawn be- 
neath, waving a letter gaily over her head, 
guarded by Thad. 

“What is it?” cried Virginia. “Why, Sue, 
why don’t you come up?” 

“Oh, Virginia, Thad won’t let me! This 
letter was at home when I got there last night. 
I fairly sat up with it, and came this morning 
the minute that Masie would let me, and now 
Thad, horrid boy, says I shan’t go up to you. 
Hurry, dress and come down, that’s a dear! 
No, I am going up ! There, Thad Clayton, let 
me go ! ” 

“No you don’t!” laughed Thad, catching Sue 
as she turned to fly past him. “Here is poor 
Aunt Sibyl at the dining-room window, and 
here I am expiring to hear this wonderful news, 
and you two will get up there and bill and coo, 
and we will never be thought of . ” 

“0 Thad!” begged both girls at once, Vir- 
ginia dropping on her knees and wringing her 


118 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 

hands, while Sue struggled wildly with her tor- 
mentor. 

“Thad me no Thads!” retorted that wicked 
hoy, bracing himself and standing calmly, as 
Sue wasted her strength in her futile efforts. 

“You sick!” jeered Sue. “You weak! It’s 
all gammon and you ought to be a half-back on 
a ’Varsity football team this minute, instead 
of being mollycoddled around here. You are 
a fraud, and I am going to write to your father ! 
Then no South America for you, but back you’ll 
go to college!” 

“Nothing would please me better,” chuckled 
Thad, taking a fresh hold as Sue almost slipped 
from his hands. 

“I don’t believe it. You are just playing 
sick. You are as strong as an elephant,” 
panted Sue. 

“So glad you admire my strength,” grinned 
Thad. 

“0 Sue,” wailed Virginia from above, drop- 
ping her tousled head on her arms and looking 
like a poppy among her red draperies. “O 
Sue, he’ll never let you go and I can’t wait an- 
other minute. Read it there, like a good child, 
and we’ll take it out of him afterwards.” 

“Well, I just hate to give up to him,” Sue 



AND DOING UP HER HAIR WITH ONE PIN, VIRGINIA RUSHED TO THE WINDOW 
























t, 








































































































































































































































































































N 

























































RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 121 

groaned deceitfully. “ Please stand aside, sir, 
I can’t read it if you hold my hand.” 

“No you don’t, my lady! I see your little 
game, but I’m not so anxious, to hold your 
hand as you seem to think,” teased Thad. 
“I’ll just hold this and if you run it will come 
off, and then I will tell Miss Cutting you wear 
a switch.” 

“Martha Cutting!” Sue’s scorn was fine to 
see. 

“Sue — please , Sue,” came Virginia’s wail. 
“Don’t spend all the precious time fighting 
with Thad. I’m in an almost fainting condi- 
tion from suspense.” 

And so, being held ignominiously by her long 
black braid, Sue was forced to read her letter. 

“It is from Aunt Serena. She’s the one who 
gave me all the Indian things. Sometimes I 
love her awfully,” explained Sue to Mrs. Mar- 
shall, “and sometimes I — well, I do the other 
thing; but this time I adore: ‘My dear Susan 
Plenty’ . . . you don’t need to snicker, 
Thad Clayton, you know perfectly what my 
n^ne is . . . ‘My dear Susan Plenty, I 

have just received a letter from my dear friend, 
Miss Elizabeth Hope, saying she will be glad 
to take you as a pupil into her delightful school 


122 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


for girls this coming year. I had written to 
her some time ago asking her to take you into 
Hope Hall, as I am very anxious to have you 
under her influence. You sadly need discipline, 
my child. ’ — ” 

“You do! You do, indeed, my child !” mur- 
mured Thad, taking a firmer clutch on the long 
braid. 

“What if I do?” sneered Sue with withering 
contempt. 

“Go on, ’ ’ cried Virginia, ‘ ‘ Go on, Sue, never 
mind him.” 

“Well, then,” went on Sue, reluctantly, 
4 i there ... I am not going to read all this 
curtain lecture, though Aunt Serena is a dar- 
ling, and I forgive her every word of it. But, 
anyway, it is a beautiful school, about a hun- 
dred miles from here, and father has met Miss 
Hope and she is a regular peach. She has ac- 
cepted my name and I’m to go the twenty- 
eighth of September and Aunty is sending me 
clothes — and 0, Virginia,” and Sue dropped 
the letter and lifted two as appealing arms as 
ever Romeo lifted to Juliet. “Oh, Virginia, 
say you ’ll go with me ! ’ ’ 

“Don’t be a goosey, Sue. Of course, I’m go- 
ing. Thad Clayton, let her go this minute,” 


RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 123 


ordered Virginia, imperiously. “I must dress 
and write to Miss Hope. Gracious, suppose I 
should be too late! Let her go, Thad.” 

“0 Virginia !” Sue cried the moment she 
rushed into her chum’s arms. 

“0 Sue, is n’t it the most perfect thing that 
ever was ! And we ’ll room together ! ’ ’ 

“Of course! Wild horses could n’t part us! 
And I am going to take all my Indian stuff and 
set up a real tepee instead of a cozy corner. 
Uncle David has one and I know he’ll lend it 
to me. And, Virginia, Aunt Serena is sending 
me a blue gown! Blue! Think of it! I’d 
look like a saffron bag! But she is sending 
that beautiful new shade of red for the twins’ 
Sunday dresses, and Betty said right away that 
they would trade with me. Is n’t that dandy of 
them?” 

“Sue, for goodness’ sake, where is my other 
shoe? But suppose all the places should be 
taken and I too late ! ’ ’ 

“Virginia Clayton, you are as crazy as a 
titmouse! You are trying to put your waist 
on upside down. There, sit down and I’ll fix 
your hair in a jiffy.’ ’ 

“And, Sue, there is one thing — now stop, I 
want to look you right in the eyes.” 


124 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“0 Virginia, do sit still. Pshaw, I had the 
loveliest coil and you jumped around and 
spoiled it all ! ? ? 

‘ 4 Well, promise I can give you a hat. Please, 
Sue, may n’t I? I have n’ta sister nor a soul 
to give hats!” 

“Of course you may,” laughed Sue. “If 
you ’ll promise in return I may do your hair. 
There, is n’t that fine?” 

“That comb just a wee hit more to the left. 
It is beautiful. Thank you so much. Of 
course you may do mine, and I’ll do yours. 
Dear me, wait a moment. But you were horrid 
to me last night and nearly broke my heart. ’ ’ 

And with their arms about each other and all 
differences settled, they went gaily down the 
stairs. 


CHAPTER VIII 


GETTING READY 

C HERR YF AIR was like a bee-hive. To be 
sure boys can’t sew, but they can run er- 
rands, and thread needles, and keep track of 
thimbles and scissors ; even Mandy Dobbins was 
pressed into service, and sat up in Mrs. Rob- 
erts’s pleasant room running the sewing ma- 
chine until everything hummed. 

Sue was really going away to school. She 
awoke with the joy of it in the morning and she 
sank to sleep with the thought hugged to her 
heart. It seemed so wonderful to see father’s 
shabby old trunk brought down from the attic 
and know it was for her this time, and to see 
dear Masie, laying the pretty clothing as it 
was finished, in neat piles in the deep tray. 
How daintily fresh was each garment ; how soft 
and white! For Aunt Serena had sent yards 
of beautifully fine cambric and long cloth. She 
said in a note, “ Quality should make up for 
lack of trimmings and that plain hems were 
most suitable for a schoolgirl.” 

125 


126 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Over the meagerness of it all Virginia 
frowned sometimes, though she would never 
let Sue suspect it; but Sue herself — why, Sue 
thought her “setting out” fit for a princess. 
That is, you see, the beauty of never having had 
a surfeit. How could Virginia understand 
Sue’s wild delight over a certain little break- 
fast-jacket, made out of an old cashmere cape 
and a bit of yak lace that her mother dyed 
old rose, and finished with French knots? 
Yet she agreed with Pink Morris that Sue was 
bewitching in it. How could she know the sat- 
isfaction with which Sue regarded herself in 
her new Sunday gown of red cloth with its 
bands of black braid and rows of tiny black 
buttons? Then there was a captivating muff 
and jaunty toque, made by her own clever 
fingers. Even Virginia grew enthusiastic when 
she saw them. 

‘ ‘ They are lovely, Sue ! You ’ve got it in you, 
and you can’t any more help it than you can 
help breathing! That black wing is just at the 
angle, a jab that side would have been prim, 
a whiff that side rakish — but now it looks as if 
it had grown there. It would n ’t make any real 
difference if you live in Monroe or Timbuctoo ! 
You would look Frenchy in Cork! It’s your 
air!” 


GETTING EEADY 127 

But Mrs. Roberts sighed and then said laugh- 
ingly: 

“If she only keeps her skirt-bindings mended 
and her stockings darned, Virginia, I shan’t 
trouble about her air.” For Sue had promised 
and promised, and had accepted the dainty 
new work basket with its thread and needles, 
scissors and thimble, all complete from Masie’s 
loving hands as if it had been a sacred charge — 
as indeed it was. 

There was a dark-blue sailor suit for school, 
and her old black skirt made over, and three 
pretty new shirt-waists. There was a wine 
colored house dress, made out of the remnants 
of her mother’s one tea gown, with a silk front 
from one of Aunt Serena’s boxes, and some 
tiny gilt buttons that had been on Phil’s velvet 
suit when he was a little chap. These made up 
her wardrobe, not forgetting the two pairs of 
kid gloves that Aunt Serena sent — to be sure, 
one pair was blue, to match the gown Aunt 
Serena had intended for her, and she had n’t a 
thing to go with them; and the other pair was 
black — but they were gloves and kid, and they 
fitted , so joy be! 

Then, this last under Masie’s protest (she 
had n’t the heart to refuse her girl so innocent 
a pleasure though she very much doubted its 
81 


128 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


good taste), there was a wonderful Indian dress 
of bright red canton-flannel all cut in fringes 
and trimmed with beads and elk’s teeth, and 
there was a real Indian bonnet — fancy an In- 
dian maiden in a warrior’s bonnet — made of 
eagle feathers and red braid. It would have 
puzzled the Smithsonian Institution to discover 
to what tribe she belonged as she danced about 
her father’s study brandishing her tomahawk, 
and singing gaily as a bobolink : 

“Wholly, wholly, Sky-o-molly! 

Shaw-buck-a-lo ! 

Shally-a-a-a !” 

but she was the most winning and tantaliz- 
ing little squaw. 

This Indian dress, by the way, was a secret 
even from Virginia. The children knew, of 
course, Sue always had to share all her plans 
with “those inquisitive creatures,” she said; 
but she would n’t have missed the delight of 
Davie’s and Ben’s surprised eyes, or of Phil’s 
reluctant admiration, for the world. Of course 
the twins had a hand in its making, and had 
strung beads and cut fringes one whole happy 
afternoon, while Ben enacted Sister Ann, look- 
ing from the watchtower of Masie’s window, 
for who knew at what dear, delightful, excit- 
ing moment Virginia might appear, and then, ' 


GETTING READY 


129 


pop ! the dress was to vanish into the top 
bureau drawer, and everybody was to be meekly 
hemming ruffles, as innocent as nuns. It was 
all Sue’s planning but, dear me, Virginia never 
came over until after tea, though I don’t know 
how many false alarms there were, when bead 
boxes were upset, and elks’ teeth hopped about 
on the floor like peas out of a pod. 

“My me!” sighed Peggy delightedly. Sue 
was folding up the gay suit just finished and 
laying it away in the trunk. “I feel as if we 
had been living on a volcano all afternoon and 
I’ve that happy tired-out feeling, as if some- 
thing dreadful had been going to happen and 
did n ’t, and all the time it was nothing but Vir- 
ginia ’s coming. There never was anybody so 
good at inventing plays as our Sue, they seem 
just that real!” 

“And now she is going away,” moaned 
Betty, as she picked up the basting-threads 
from the carpet. “I don’t know what we shall 
do,” her lip quivered and she hid her face a 
minute in Sue’s scarlet apron that hung on a 
chair. 

“Why, I’ll tell you, chickies,” laughed Sue, 
banging down the trunk lid. “You are going 
to have my mantle fall on you and invent all 
sorts of jolly times. Then I’m coming home 


130 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Christmas, and think how good it will be to 
have me back again ! ’ ’ 

“Huh,” grunted Phil from the old couch 
where he was reading, “I’ll bet you’ll be as glad 
to be back as we will be to have you; for if 
you are n’t about the homesickest — ” 

“Most homesick, you mean,” corrected Betty 
wiping her eyes on the corner of the apron. 
“You can’t say homesickest!” 

“Yes you can, and I do,” said Phil, “she 
will be the homesickest — because there is n’t 
any other word to describe her state — girl that 
ever — ” 

“Happened!” finished Sue, gently laying a 
cushion on him and then sitting down upon it. 
“But Mr. Phil you are mistaken. I am going 
to have the gayest, j oiliest, swellest time a girl 
ever had. I’m going to study like fun, and 
learn like the mischief — <” 

“I guess that’s it,” grunted Phil under his 
burden — “like fun and the mischief! They 
will be sending for father to come and take you 
home before the week’s out; but I’ll . . . ” 

and suddenly the boy’s voice grew husky and 
in spite of the weight upon his chest, an awk- 
ward boyish arm stole round Sue, and he added 
half laughing, half defiant, “but I’ll stand by 
you, old girl, if the house falls.” 


GETTING BEADY 


131 


“Send her home,” cried the twins in dismay. 
“Why that would be awful,” and Betty added 
under her breath, 4 4 a family disgrace ! ’ 9 

But Sue patted Phil’s hand and said with a 
happy laugh: 

“I’ll remember that, Phil, when the time 
comes, that you’ll stand by me. But goodness 
me, I won’t ever need you, for I’m going to be 
as good as gold.” 

One dreadful day that little scene came back 
to Sue like a vision, and how she longed for the 
touch of that dear brother’s hand, and how 
she recalled Betty’s frightened words, “a 
family disgrace ! ’ ’ 

But on that summer evening she jumped up 
in a gay flurry and went to help Mandy with the 
tea and all was forgotten. 

Masie and Sue found time for some sweet 
talks together even in those busy days, and 
there were some happy moments, too, snatched 
from the flying hours, to slip into her father’s 
study and perch on the arm of his chair and 
there with an arm around his neck, and her 
hand in his, to talk a little together with full 
hearts. Father and Masie were so anxious, as 
Sue understood better every day, for her to 
be good and gentle and brave. They believed 
in her and trusted her. Hard times were com- 


132 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


ing, perhaps, and so it behooved her to make 
all she could out of the golden opportunity that 
Aunt Serena had so kindly made possible. 

“Perhaps I ought not to go and leave you 
all,” said Sue one day as she sat on father’s 
chair arm. “Perhaps you need me more than 
ever . 9 9 

“No,” said her father stroking the little 
brown hand he held. “This is just what your 
mother and I wished for you; a year with the 
best teaching, the best of influences, and we 
want you to have as happy a time as a girl can. 
We have been perhaps, as Aunt Serena says, 
too lenient. It is for you to prove, Sue, if our 
method has been wise and our faith in you not 
misplaced. But, little daughter, there will be 
much in the coming year that will tell in your 
after life for good or ill. It will be the turn- 
ing point, and I want you to promise me that 
when you are far away from us you will not 
forget.” 

And Sue bent her curly head and promised 
with all her heart. 

Over at Kinikinnick, Virginia, too, was get- 
ting ready; but for a girl who has had all sorts 
of journeys, and seen many places, a trip of a 
hundred miles and a year in a country board- 
ing-school were far less novel incidents than 


GETTING READY 


133 


it was to Sue. Beside, too, much of her atten- 
tion was given to Tliad, who was all excitement 
over the delights of his journey with his father, 
since he had learned it was to be a scientific ex- 
pedition, and that Professor Prescott and Dr. 
Yoder were both to be in the party, and that 
he was to be allowed some part in the work, as 
well as in the play. They were to start early 
in September and Thad’s joy knew no bounds. 

Virginia and Thad were getting better ac- 
quainted since Sue had come into their lives. 
As her father said, Sue had a real gift in mak- 
ing people discover each other, and this gift 
had helped beautifully with Thad and Virginia. 

Mrs. Marshall saw it all and smiled her wise, 
calm smile and borrowed Sue whenever she 
could and loved her dearly, in spite of her rol- 
licking manner — though Betty was her real fa- 
vorite. 

Virginia was busily folding some gowns away 
in a big hamper one morning, as Thad came 
sauntering by. 

4 4 May I come in, Nixie ?” he asked leaning 
in the doorway. “Aunt Sibyl is busy, and it 
is as lonely as Sahara downstairs when a fel- 
low can’t read.” 

“Why, of course,” said Virginia jumping up 
and dragging an East Indian chair over by the 


134 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


window, “here is a footstool and a cushion, so 
settle yourself in comfort. I will be through 
in a few moments and then I will read to you. ’ ’ 

“What are you doing ?” he asked listlessly 
as she stuffed sleeves with tissue paper and 
pulled out frills. “Not packing for your jour- 
ney yet, I hope.” 

“Well hardly,” laughed Virginia, who could 
have gone to Europe on a day’s notice. “Aunty 
and I had a little talk this morning, and we de- 
cided these would better be laid away.” 

“What is the matter. Too many duds'?” 

“No-o-o,” replied Virginia slowly, not 
knowing if it were quite right to take Thad into 
her confidence ; but seeing he seemed interested 
and being full of her subject, she continued; 
“you see Thad, Sue Roberts is the most in- 
dependent girl I ever knew. They are very 
poor, but she won’t let me give her a single 
thing. Yes, she did consent to a hat, and she 
only did that to get rid of me. But you know, 
Thad, how I should love to share everything 
with her. I have so much and she has so little. 
Not that she does not always look pretty, for 
she does, but because I love her so much, and 
because it would be almost like having a sister. 
You can see how she is with me, why she shares 


GETTING READY 


135 


her whole family — and everything that she 
possesses.’ ’ 

“I like Sue all the better, Virginia, for her 
independence. She is a trump. That Cutting 
girl is a bird of another feather.” 

“Do you know, Thad, I am learning to like 
Martha Cutting. I did n’t understand her at 
first, but now I can not see why you and Sue 
dislike her so much. But Sue is my dearest 
friend and I am sure I would not feel as she 
does if I were in her place. But the only way 
for me to do, since she won’t accept anything, 
is to dress plainly myself. She is n’t to know, 
for she would never consent, but I am only 
going to take my simplest things. Thad, don’t 
you think we ought to give some sort of a party 
before we leave Kinikinnick? Aunty and I do. 
To be sure I have had the girls out a good 
many afternoons, but I mean a real evening 
party. The girls have been so lovely to me, 
and you are so much better, I really believe it 
would do you good.” 

“Well, for the love of mercy, you don’t ex- 
pect me to be the one boy among that crowd of 
girls,” groaned Thad, starting up in mock hor- 
ror. 

“Don’t be a silly, Thad! There are some nice 


136 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


boys in Monroe. There is Brace Morris, 
Pink’s brother, and Edwin Taylor, Albert and 
Sidney Reed, and Will McBride ; then of course 
we would invite Phil and Cedric even if they 
are younger, and I am going to invite Betty 
and Peggy and little Clara Wilkins, their 
chum, for they would all enjoy it so. We can 
have dancing on the east veranda, and lanterns 
in the shubbery, and ices out in a tent on the 
lawn — ” 

“Oh, if you have it all settled,” broke in 
Thad, pulling himself reluctantly out of his 
comfortable chair, “what have you consulted 
me for?” 

“Oh, Thad, please don’t get grumpy!” 
begged Virginia. “Honestly, I was just mak- 
ing it up as I went along. Please be good and 
help. ’ ’ 

“Well, it seems to me we ought to do some- 
thing,” agreed Thad, seeing Virginia really 
was in earnest. “But I would have it very 
simple and informal and we will all have a 
better time. Don’t you agree with me, 
Aunty?” for Mrs. Marshall was standing in 
the doorway, with her hand full of poppies. 

“Come in, Aunty dear,” cried Virginia. 
“Come in and help Thad and me decide about 
our pa?rty.” 



MRS. MARSHALL WAS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY. 


■'n-V 














■. ' 














































GETTING READY 


139 


“I am glad to come in and help upon that 
question,” replied Mrs. Marshall, "for I feel we 
owe a great deal to the young people of Mon- 
roe, they have made your summer so pleasant. 
What shall we do?” 

"Well, I was thinking of a sort of reception 
with dancing afterward, but Thad says some- 
thing informal.” 

"A dress-suit on a hot night, Aunty, is an 
abomination!” 

"And I very much doubt, my dears, if there 
is a dress-suit possessed by a High-school hoy 
in Monroe; that comes with graduation night, 
you see. We are not in New York, now.” 

"All the girls have dainty gowns,” protested 
Virginia. 

"Then let them wear them, but make it in- 
formal by driving over to invite them; just say 
it is to be a very simple evening party, and there 
need be no embarrassment. You can have your 
dance, but you must add games for those who 
don’t care for dancing, and I think I shall in- 
vite some guests of my own, Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. 
Taylor and Mrs. Reed, to assist me in my duty 
of seeing you have a good time.” 

"There, that is just like you, Aunty, to think 
of the sweetest things,” declared Virginia wav- 
ing a kiss to Mrs. Marshall. "I was just long- 


140 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


ing to invite Mrs. Roberts, sbe is so good to 
me; but I never thought of dear Mrs. Taylor, 
and I know she would love to come. There, 
that is all ready for Andrew to take up to the 
storeroom/’ and Virginia closed the hamper 
and rose. 

“Well,” said Thad mournfully, “as I am too 
aged and infirm to dance, and don’t know any 
games, I suppose I must be a wallflower at 
this social function, but I’ll entice Phil and 
Cedric off into my study, they would rather see 
my little electric engine run than go to fifty 
parties, and I would n’t be surprised if I could 
coax off every boy with the promise of an ex- 
periment or two. They would be much more 
interesting to a boy than a girl with a fan.” 

“You!” laughed Mrs. Marshall. “Don’t 
you worry, Virginia. He’ll never miss a dance. 
As for Phil and Cedric — if I know boys, and I 
think I do — even the charms of experiments 
and electric engines will pale before ice cream 
and frappe.” 


CHAPTER IX 


A BIT OF NEWS 

‘fTlHE boys were going to have the bus and 
A take us out to Kinikinnick that way, but 
Martha Cutting told Bert Reed — she is going 
with him of course, and we had meant to go 
higgley-piggley and have such fun — that she 
for one would n’t go in the bus, for the Claytons 
would think we were acting like a lot of country 
bumpkins going to a fair. So Bert has en- 
gaged Mr. HilPs carriage, and as that is the 
only one in town I suppose we will have to walk 
or stay at home, for ever since Martha put it 
that way we girls feel horrid about going in 
the bus. That girl has a perfect genius for 
making one feel uncomfortable.” Pink Morris 
threw herself with such despair into Avis Tay- 
lor’s hammock that the ropes creaked in pro- 
test. 

“Why don’t you say she makes one feel like 
‘thirty cents,’ it is so much more expressive,” 
laughed Sue. She had walked into Monroe on 
an errand for her father and had run in to call 
141 


142 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


on Avis. Pink seeing lier on passing had 
joined them on the veranda. 

"I can tell you, Sue,” said Avis soberly, 
“that this is really no laughing matter. Of 
course Bert Reed can afford a carriage ; Cousin 
Edward says he has sent to Easton for roses 
for Martha ; and Sid Reed can take their own 
buggy — that does n’t sound as fine as a carriage, 
but it is better than a bus.” 

“And I don’t see,” broke in Pink, “who in 
the world Sid would take as he is so bashful, 
he would die driving alone with a girl. It 
was only the idea of all of us being together, 
where he would be lost in the shuffle, that made 
him think of accepting. I had to coax him 
an hour before he said he would go.” 

“Yes,” went on Avis, “and there are Cedric 
and little Clara — Belle will want to look after 
her, and of course, Ceddie could have come 
with the crowd, but now — ” 

“But now what!” cried Sue, “why just this, 
you are all going in the bus and you are going 
to stop for Phil and me — Betty and Peggy are 
invited with mother to tea, so will go early. 
I met Will McBride and Sid as I came out of 
the postoffice and we settled it right there, 
besides Virginia suggested it to me herself. 
Such foolishness! is Martha running us?” 


A BIT OF NEWS 


143 


“Sue, you are a darling! Here we girls 
have been having a fit over that bus for two 
mortal days, and you settle it by a word!” 

“I’m sure,” protested Pink earnestly, “all 
the time I would rather have ridden with Will 
McBride in the old bus for the rest of my life 
than with Bert Reed in a carriage for a mile!” 

‘ ‘ Oh, we never doubted that ! ’ ’ shrieked Avis 
and Sue together, falling into each other’s arms 
in their delight over poor Pink’s blunder. 

“You mean — mean things,” she protested, 
blushing as rosy as her name. “You know I 
didn’t mean that!” 

“Mean what?” cried those naughty girls 
laughing harder than ever. 

“Well, I only meant,” faltered Pink, “he 
is n’t handsome, nor rich, nor dashing like Bert, 
but he is good, and bright — ” 

“It was horrid of us, Pink,” admitted Sue. 
“But you know how you love to get a joke on 
us and it is so seldom we have a chance with 
you, you are such a sly minx. ’ ’ 

“And now that the getting there is settled,” 
and Avis sank back in her chair as if a great 
weight was off her mind, “let’s talk clothes.” 

‘ ‘ Oh yes ! ’ ’ exclaimed Pink, enthusiastically, 
“Mother is making me a pink dimity with just 
the least V at the neck, and elbow sleeves. 


144 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Of course I couldn’t have had it if this hadn’t 
been our senior year and I will really need it 
for evenings, as there will be something going 
on.” 

“And I’ve a new white organdy,” said Avis, 
“and Belle a dotted Swiss. Even little Clara 
has the cutest blue lawn. What are you going 
to wear, Sue?” 

Sue was taken quite off her guard. She had 
been so delighted when Virginia had unfolded 
her plan that she had never once thought of a 
gown. 

“I hope you will wear the evening gown you 
are going to take away to school,” continued 
Avis, “we all want to see it so much.” 

“My evening gown — ?” 

“Why, yes,” said Pink, “of course we know 
you must have something lovely for little af- 
fairs, you are always so stylish, Sue. I hope 
it is ever so much prettier than Martha’s — ” 

Here, to Sue’s astonishment, Avis gave a 
warning cry, and Pink popped her hand over 
her mouth as if she had just let escape a state 
secret. 

“What is it?” begged Sue, having all an 
average girl’s inquisitiveness. “What is it? 
Why, Pink Morris, I did n’t think you would be 
so mean as to keep a secret from me !” 


A BIT OF NEWS 


145 


4 4 But Sue,” said Pink — it was evident that 
both girls were longing to tell — “but, Sue, we 
found it out in such a queer way; and be- 
sides . . . it . . . well, it won’t make 
you a bit happier ; indeed, we are afraid it will 
make you quite miserable!” 

“Yes, quite,” Avis assured Sue, looking at 
her pityingly. “And Virginia, too — it might 
spoil the party for you both. No, we can’t 
tell—” 

“Unless,” went on Pink reluctantly, as if 
the secret were being forced from her — as she 
really thought it was, though Sue was doing 
nothing but looking at her imploringly with her 
hands clasped as if in prayer. 

“Please!” Sue whispered breathlessly, think- 
ing the whole thing a joke. “Please let me 
know the worst. I think I can bear it!” 

4 4 Well, ’ ’ said Pink. ‘ ‘ Well— ! ’ ’ 

“Oh, Pink, ought we to tell?” broke in Avis, 
her sweet face crinkled with anxiety. “I’m 
afraid it will make trouble!” 

4 ‘ I know it will. I just won ’t tell ! ’ ’ and Pink 
turned from temptation and hid her face in the 
hammock cushion. 

“So there really is something then. I 
thought all the time you were both pretend- 
ing,” said Sue in a matter-of-fact way, seeing 
9 


146 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


that not only was there a secret, but that she 
must gain it by strategy. “I’m afraid I 
have n’t time to stay very long for it, but just 
tell me this: Have you promised not to tell!” 

“Oh, no,” cried both girls, “no one knows 
we know!” 

“We each ran against a part of it,” ex- 
plained Pink. “And when we told each other 
—we have never had a secret we did not share 
in our lives — then we put two and two together, 
and behold!” 

“Will I know it sometime!” 

“Oh, yes, soon!” 

“Could I prevent its happening if I knew!” 

“No, it is too late !” 

“Is it something to happen!” 

“Yes, indeed! Isn’t it, Avis! And you 
won’t like it a bit, Sue, not a bit!” 

“Is it dead or alive!” 

“Oh, very much alive,” giggled Avis. 

“Ugly, or pretty!” 

“Some people think it lovely!” Pink was 
enjoying the cross examination so much she 
could n’t help giving Avis a sly wink and form- 
ing 4 Bert’ silently with her lips. 

But Sue was too quick for her. 

“It’s alive, Bert thinks it lovely, and it will 
make me unhappy.” She thought for a mo- 


A BIT OF NEWS 


147 


ment and then added triumphantly: 4 ‘ It’s 
Martha Cutting !” 

“Sue Roberts, you’re the brightest thing that 
ever lived,” cried Avis admiringly. 

“Then it is Martha. Well, tell me the rest. 
What did she say!” 

“Nothing.” 

“Then what has she done!” 

“She has n’t done it, she is just going to. 
But we are not going to tell,” and Pink closed 
her lips firmly. “It will be had enough when 
you see her there!” 

This was a slip, as Sue saw by the expres- 
sion of dismay on both faces. 

“At Virginia’s!” she asked, pressing her 
advantage. 

“No.” 

“Why, I am not going any other place, ex- 
cept Hope Hall.” 

“Oh-o-o-o!” wailed Avis. 

“You don’t mean — you can’t mean she is 
going there!” 

Pink suddenly raised her face from the cush- 
ion, red and anxious. 

4 ‘ That is it, Sue. You have guessed it, and we 
have been acting like a pair of sillies, anyway. 
Sit down again, and I’ll tell you all I know. 
You see, Bruce was up at the schoolhouse one 


148 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


day with Mr. Keen, when Martha Cutting and 
her mother came in. Mrs. Cutting told Mr. 
Keen that she wanted all Martha’s standings 
for the last three years, as she had decided to 
send her away to school, because she wished her 
to have better teaching in an atmosphere of 
more culture than she could find in Monroe. 
You know Mrs. Cutting and her toploftiness! 
Well, Mr. Keen showed he did n’t like it very 
well, Martha is such a splendid scholar, you 
know, and he has been so interested in her work. 
Then she always did have a way of getting 
around her teachers — ” 

“She had her lessons better than the rest of 
us; that’s one way,” interpolated Avis. 

“You know what I mean, Avis Taylor, per- 
fectly. It wasn’t all lessons nor talent. She 
did things to gain favor that the rest of us 
would n’t stoop to, and that made us appear in 
a bad light. I don’t want to be unjust to her; 
she is bright and pretty, and seems always re- 
fined, but she does n’t ring true, and you know 
it.” 

“But how do you know she is going to Hope 
Hall?” inquired Sue. 

‘ ‘ Just wait a moment and you will see. Bruce 
told me when he came home; he could n’t help 
overhearing ; they never noticed him, as he was 


A BIT OF NEWS 


149 


helping Mr. Keen behind the screen. We are 
all in the same class, so, of course, we were in- 
terested. Well, the day before, Avis met 
Martha in the postoffice, and you know how she 
always loves to make you think she has a se- 
cret — ” 

“Yes,” broke in Avis, feeling this was her 
part of the story, “but I never would have sus- 
pected at all if she had n’t kept flourishing a 
letter she had just received. It was in a laven- 
der envelope, with a violet seal, and you know, 
Sue, Virginia had one just like it that last day 
you drove up here. Don’t you remember, Vir- 
ginia said she always saw violets when she 
thought of Miss Hope, because she seemed so 
fond of that color, and we talked of character 
in handwriting and admired hers so much. So 
I knew at once it was a letter from Miss Hope, 
and exclaimed over it. Martha did n’t like it a 
bit when she found I knew, for she had only 
meant to make me curious; but when I asked 
her about it she said she supposed there was 
no law against other girls beside Sue Roberts 
and Virginia Clayton going to Hope Hall, 
though from the talk in Monroe, one would 
imagine they were the first that had ever gone 
anywhere. Then she sailed away with her nose 
in the air, but when she found I did n’t run 


150 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


after her, she brought her sewing over that 
afternoon and was as sweet as peaches. Of 
course, we never mentioned school.’ ’ 

“Her mother has been sewing for her for 
weeks,” said Pink, “and she is getting some 
dresses made in Dexter. She told Mildred 
Warner that her aunt had promised to take her 
to Europe, if she received first prize in both 
voice and piano at school, but she did not say 
where she was going. And that is every 
blessed thing we know!” 

4 4 That ’s enough ! More than a-plenty, thank 
you!” ejaculated Sue, taking her head in both 
hands, as if she was afraid it would fly off. “I 
feel like the old German woman who said when 
her cow died, ‘Now, I’d chust as soon lif as 
die!’ ” 

“Oh, Sue,” begged Avis, “are you pre- 
tending, or have we most broken your 
heart? Martha is a real nice girl in lots of 
ways.” 

“Now, Avis, don’t add insult to injury! 
Who ever said she was n’t? It is only that 
Martha and I are like oil and water, fire and 
tow, the lion and the lamb, match and gunpow- 
der, and lots of other things! We are both all 
right in our place, but we don’t mix well. I 
pity Miss Hope!” 


A BIT OF NEWS 151 

“But, Sue,” persisted Pink, “have we done 
wrong in telling you — ” 

“Of course not. Why, if it had been sprung 
on me suddenly at the party or the station, 
who knows — I might have fainted or fallen in 
a fit, and have had to be carried home on a 
shutter ! ’ ’ 

“Sue Roberts, stop your nonsense!” pro- 
tested Pink. “Don’t you see Avis is just ready 
to cry, and that I feel as mean as spuds?” 

“Well, you need n’t,” declared Sue, giving 
Avis an affectionate little pat and throwing 
Pink a kiss. “I’m all right and it was best that 
Virginia and I should know. I might have 
hurt Martha’s feelings in some way. But I 
see I’ve got a job cut out for me, and that’s to 
learn to like that girl and make her like me, for 
she’s my fate. Goodness, did that clock strike 
eleven? And I promised Mandy I would make 
the salad for luncheon! Good-by, girls, I’ve 
got to scurry,” and away she flew. 

“Why, she never told us what she was going 
to wear to the party ! ’ ’ commented Avis, half an 
hour later, when the two girls had quieted their 
conscience by going in and confessing it all to 
gentle Mrs. Taylor, who had given them the 
scolding they felt they deserved, and sent them 
away comforted. 


CHAPTER X 


DAVIE TO THE RESCUE 

M ANDY DOBBINS was hanging up the 
clothes in the back yard, and Sue stood 
at the kitchen table washing the breakfast 
dishes, while Betty polished the glasses until 
they shone. 

“It seems to me, Sue,” said Peggy, in a dis- 
consolate voice — she was scouring the knives 
with her board on the window sill — “that you 
are about the quietest I ever saw you. We ah 
ways have such fun out here in the kitchen 
wash-days, and we have n’t sung ‘ There is a 
goose,’ or ‘Whoopsy saw,’ or anything!” 

“All right, honey,” and Sue broke into a 
half-smile and began in a strained voice, 

“Whoopsy craw, sine craw, 

The Robertses come to town — ” 

“Well, why don’t you both pipe up ! I don’t 
feel like singing a solo.” For both Peggy and 
Betty had failed to join in her song. 

“It sounded like a funeral,” grumbled 
152 


DAVIE TO THE RESCUE 


153 


Peggy, ‘ 4 there was no more fun in your voice 
than a tombstone. I just hate that kind of 
funning. All. right for you, Sue Roberts ; next 
time we won’t sing when you want to,” and 
with this dire threat Peggy gave herself up to 
the absorbing task of polishing the butcher 
knife. 

“Sue,” said Betty seriously, as she shook out 
a fresh tea-towel and looked up at the clock. 
“In four days and eleven hours we will be at 
Virginia’s party! I wish she had n’t asked us 
so long ahead. It’s awful to wait so long, when 
you have never been to a real party in your 
life.” 

“It seems most a billion years,” agreed ex- 
travagant Peggy. “I’m that afraid I’ll die be- 
fore it gets here, I don’t like to go to sleep.” 

“Clara Wilkins told me at Sunday School” 
went on Betty, “that her blue lawn has a lace 
yoke, and she is going to wear Belle’s second 
best sash. I do wish you had something to 
lend, Sue. It’s so lovely to wear borrowed 
clothes ! ’ ’ 

“I don’t think so,” snapped Sue, banging 
the pan so fiercely she pushed her favorite little 
blue bowl to the floor with a crash. “There, 
that served me right for being so cross!” she 
groaned, as she gathered up the bits. “I’m 


154 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


all out of sorts this morning, and I warn every- 
body off the premises.’ ’ 

“What is it, dear?” inquired Mrs. Roberts, 
coming in with a pan of beans she had just 
gathered in the garden. “Anything wrong, 
little daughter?” 

“There are two things, Masie. One is I just 
can’t be happy. about Martha going to Hope 
Hall, and the other is that Virginia has found 
out I am going to wear my white shirt-waist 
suit to the party, and she is bound to lend me 
her pink silk muslin — she has never worn it 
here — and I won ’t have it, and she is hurt about 
it.” 

“As for Martha’s going, you must, my child, 
for your own sake, get over that foolish feeling. 
I am so sorry that rose lawn Aunt Serena sent 
you faded, that would have been very nice to 
wear, but I am afraid it is out of the question,” 
said her mother with a sigh. 

i 6 My ! ’ ’ said Betty, with a deep breath. “I’m 
thankful ours were white! If they had been 
fadey and we should have had to stay at home, 
I think I should have perished ! ’ ’ 

“Virginia says Pink and Avis were right 
about my needing an evening dress at school,” 
went on Sue, nervously, “and she is begging 


DAVIE TO THE RESCUE 155 

me to accept the pink for always, but, of 
course, I won’t.” 

“No, of course not!” said Mrs. Roberts em- 
phatically. ‘ ‘ I feel troubled about the hat. To 
be sure, it is simple — ” 

“I’m sure it could n’t have cost much,” cried 
Sue, as if her mother was about to wrest it from 
her. No one knew how often she slipped out of 
bed to try on the hat before the old mirror. It 
was such a beautiful hat, so apart from any- 
thing Sue had known, and her heart fairly 
cleaved to it. 

“Oh, well,” said Mrs. Roberts cheerily. 
“You can wear the shirt-waist suit with one of 
your new linen collars and your red tie, that 
will be very pretty and girlish. ’ ’ 

Sue groaned. Masie had n’t seen many even- 
ing parties; for that matter, neither had Sue, 
but she felt sure that girls did n’t usually wear 
linen collars and red ties, and there was the 
pink gown — But no, no! and Sue’s head went 
up in the air. It was quite bad enough to ac- 
cept benefits from one’s relatives, but from 
one’s chum — never! 

Yet later that afternoon, when Davie went 
flying up to the wigwam to beg for a rubber 
band for his new sling-shot, he found Sue lying 


156 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


on her divan, and there was grief and despair 
in every line of the slender figure that lay 
among the gay pillows. 

“Why-e-e! What’s the matter, Sue?” fal- 
tered Davie, in his astonishment. Sue to cry — 
Sue ! Betty and Peggy had their weeping 
times, to be sure, and nobody thought anything 
of it, but not Sue. “Are you sick, shall I call 
Masie?” 

“No-o-o! Not on your life!” sobbed Sue. 
“Go away, Davie, and shut the door. I’m 
. . . . I’m.... crying like sixty, 
and I don’t want anybody to see me! Go 
away ! ’ ’ 

“Is it your tooth or your stomach?” anx- 
iously inquired Davie, closing the door softly 
and going nearer to her. “Mandy Dobbin has 
some bully drops, one tastes of wintergreen and 
the other of pep ’mint, and she’ll give you your 
choice. ’ ’ 

“It is neither one, and I don’t want any 
drops,” sniffled Sue from the depths of her pil- 
low. “I want you to go away, for I am a mean, 
hateful cat, that ’s what lam!” 

“Who said so?” demanded Davie, doubling 
his small fist. “If it was Phil or Bennie, I’ll 
show ’em!” 

Sue lifted her head to look at her small cham- 


©(0 s^»«no§D &iss&(D 


















DAVIE TO THE RESCUE 159 

pion, and a half-smile crept over her tear- 
drenched face. 

“Did n’t anybody say so, Davie; I think it 
myself. Yon see, here I’m getting to go away 
to school with a whole trunkful of new clothes ; 
and now I’m crying like a baby, because a 
girl I don’t like is going, too, and because I 
have nothing to wear ... to wear . . . 

to Virginia’s . . . party,” and Sue’s head 
went down again. 

Davie could understand that going away to 
school with a person one did not like might not 
be pleasant, but a trunkful of clothes and noth- 
ing to wear struck him as very remarkable, yet, 
having been the brother of three girls since 
his birth, he knew that remarkable statements 
were to be expected. Still, it did n’t seem like 
Sue to cry over a little thing like a dress. 
Why, he did n’t remember seeing her cry since 
Bennie fell out of a tree and broke his arm, 
two whole years ago! 

“What kind of a dress do you want?” 
inquired Davie for need of something to 
say. 

“A-a party gown, of course, goosey, but 
there is no use talking; I can’t have it. I 
would n’t mind so much, if it was n’t for Martha 
Cutting; and besides, all the girls will know I 


160 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


have n’t an evening gown for school. I wish 
I had been born a Hottentot!” 

“Why don’t yon wear your Indian dress? 
That’d look awful nice, and I bet none of the 
other girls have one with elks’ teeth sewed on 
it!” 

“Go away, Davie Roberts!” cried Sue, 
sharply. “What do boys know? I’d look 
swell dressed up like that ! Of course, no other 
girl has elks’ teeth, no girl would want them 
for Virginia’s party! Oh, Davie, forgive me!” 
For Davie’s lip quivered, he having been so 
much affected by her tears that his heart had 
welled with sympathy and he was greatly hurt 
at this summary dismissal. “I’ll be all right 
in a little bit. I would n’t have father or 
mother know for the world, when they have 
been so good to me. Promise me you won’t tell. 
Now run away. I’m ’most cried out now.” 

“Why don’t you write to Aunt Serena?” 
asked Davie, he never having been known to 
give up a subject when he was once started on it. 

“Because she has been giving to me ever 
since I can remember, and because I never 
asked anybody for anything in my life except 
Uncle David.” 

“Then why don’t you ask Uncle David?” 
persisted Davie. 


DAVIE TO THE RESCUE 


161 


“Go along with you, Davie Roberts !” and 
Sue sprang from the divan and seized him by 
the shoulder. “Did n’t I ask him to lend me 
his tepee, and did n’t he send me the darlingest 
ever! Am I a beggar? There, take that kiss 
and trot along. Forget all about it, there’s a 
good boy. I’m all right.” 

Davie, put out bodily, heard the key turn in 
the lock, and after a resentful kick at the door, 
to show he understood her ingratitude, he went 
slowly downstairs and out to the barn yard. 

Mandy Dobbins had gone home for the after- 
noon and taken the twins with her ; Ben was off 
with Phil on an errand, and father and Masie 
were not to be told. There was not a creature 
with whom to talk of Sue’s woes except the 
puppy and the pig. For a long time Davie 
stood with his hands in his pockets watching 
the pig — his one possession, for Farmer Brown 
had given Davie the pig — jolly and fat as old 
King Cole, nosing the green apples that had 
been given him for his dinner. If only, Davie 
thought, he hadn’t emptied his bank for that 
jointed fishing rod, then he could buy a dress 
for Sue himself. It was dreadful to think of 
merry old Sue crying. He’d buy a spangled 
dress like the lady wore who rode the horse in 
the circus, when Uncle David took him last 


162 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


summer. Good old Uncle David ! If only Uncle 
David knew there would be no further trouble. 
Jolly Uncle David, who always slapped a boy 
on the back and asked him if he did n’t want to 
borrow a quarter. If Uncle David was here to 
ask — ” 

But at this point in his thoughts an idea 
struck Davie with great force, and dragging 
his hat a little farther over his ears, he started 
helter-skelter for the house. 

“Mandy! Mandy Dobbin !” he called, as he 
burst breathlessly into the kitchen; “ Mandy 
Dobbin !” but there was no response. 

But, remembering that his friend and confi- 
dant had gone out for the afternoon — without 
waiting to consider whether he had a right to 
use Mandy ’s property without her permission 
— he ran into her little bedroom off the kitchen. 
Yes, there was her ink and pen on the window, 
and in a box on the table was her stationery, 
for Mandy ’s lover was a soldier in the Philip- 
pines, and much of her spare time was spent 
in letter-writing. 

Then Davie, with his treasures, scurried 
away to the barn. In the harness-room he 
found a tobacco-pail which, turned upside 
down* would serve very well for a table; there 
was light from the high window, and he felt 


DAVIE TO THE RESCUE 


163 


that here he would be safe from interruption. 
Davie had not written many letters, but Miss 
Banks had given her pupils some business 
forms the last term of school that had made a 
great impression on Davie. It seemed so 
grown up and manly to write “Dear Sir,” and 
“your esteemed favor.” He was quite sure 
he knew how to do it. Then Miss Banks al- 
ways said he wrote very well for a small boy; 
there would be no trouble except the spelling — 
the sight of a spelling-book always turned 
Davie sick at the stomach — but then he remem- 
bered that Uncle David said he hated spelling, 
too, and likely he would never know if the 
words were correctly spelled or not. So, com- 
forting himself with this thought, down went 
Davie on his knees by the pail, and dipping his 
pen deep in the ink, thrusting his tongue in his 
cheek, and squinting his crossed eye until it was 
almost lost in wrinkles, he sent his pen sputter- 
ing across the paper. 


“Monroe, Ohio. 
“August 23, 19 — . 

“My deer Sir: 

“That’s what teecher said men said to eech 
other if you wuz riten a bizness letter and this 
is stricly bizness. Teecher she said put es- 
10 


164 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


teemed favor but you aint don it yit so i leavs 
that out. You see our Sue she aint got no 
party dress for virginas party and i catched 
her cryin up in her wigwam thats what she 
calls her room where she keeps her injun things. 
She got a lot ant sereny sent but they is day 
dresses cause our Sue said i wuz a goose you 
cant wear injun dresses to partys tall an 
marthy cutting she will laf if our Sue wears it. 
you said did i want to borro a quarter and i 
said what do men do an you said they give a 
note but our teecher she said also you can give 
morgage on house or farm or lif stock or any- 
thing you owned your own self and i asked her 
did lif stock meen a pig an she said yes. So I 
want to borro a dress for our Sue as i aint got 
no mony but 7 sents my rod it folds and cost 
$2 i wist i had the mony back for it aint no 
good and i am now savin for a gun. i send 
morgage on my pig it is a nice clean pig and 
father he said we mite as well eat one of the 
fambly so mr. Read he will buy him of me this 
fall he is my own pig an this is a rite morgage 
for our teecher she showed us. i David F. 
Roberts of monroe Ohio in considration of one 
dress lended me by my unkle David for our 
Sue I convey to wit one said pig set my hand 
an seel David F. Roberts, p s our sue she does 


DAVIE TO THE RESCUE 


165 


not no nor nobody dont and dont you tell an 
cross your hart and hope to dye i will take good 
care of the pig. Your lovin neffu. David F. 
Roberts. 

“2 p s i cant spell but nether can you. 

a p s s dont take no time or our Sue will have 
to wear her saler sute an marthy will laf i will 
do somethin for you someday and don ’t tell ant 
sereny “D. F. R.” 

It took Davie a long time to write his letter, 
for in spite of squinting eye and wagging 
tongue, the pen refused to go as it should. The 
teetering pail did not make the best of writing- 
tables, and for some reason Mandy’s pen 
seemed to leak ink at both ends. Still he was 
more than satisfied, in spite of blots, as he 
surveyed his finished letter, and it took all his 
self-control to keep from rushing off to show 
it to his admiring family. At last it was folded 
and directed, the “ Judge David Fulton” stag- 
gering from corner to corner across the en- 
velope, seemingly held on only by an extra 
curlicue at the lower corner. 

Once more Davie slipped into the house — 
this time for two of the precious seven pennies 
— and then away he sped to mail his letter. 


CHAPTER XI 


IN MEMORY OF A ROSE 

TUDGE FULTON, as he sat in his office, 
tJ tipped himself back comfortably in his 
swivel chair and ran hastily through his morn- 
ing mail. 

The sight of his name pitching in a tipsy, 
sea-sick fashion across a gaily tinted envelope 
attracted his attention, a moment more and the 
look of surprise gave way to one of amuse- 
ment. 

‘ 4 From one of Albert’s little chaps, of 
course,” he thought, smiling. “God bless 
them.” As the Judge read Davie’s remarkable 
letter his face brightened more and more, and 
when he came to the mortgage a distinct chuckle 
broke the silence of the office, surprising the 
stenographer. 

“Did I startle you, Miss Ore?” asked the 
Judge. “I am greatly pleased with the dis- 
covery that there is material in the family for 
another lawyer — my little namesake. I have 
166 


IN MEMORY OF A ROSE 167 


a bit of unusal work for you this morning. Can 
you attend to it at once?” 

“Yes, sir. Dictation, sir?” 

“I was just wondering in what color,” said 
the Judge, meditatively, “a black-eyed, black- 
haired, saucy-faced girl would look best, and 
what a party gown should be made of. You 
will remember my niece, Sue Roberts, when 
she was here last summer,” pursued the Judge. 
“Well, it seems she is going to a party, and 
Davie and I — Davie is her little brother — 
want to surprise her with a new gown. We 
would like it as girlish and smart as girls of 
her age usually wear. I have noticed you have 
very pretty taste in dress, Miss Ore, so I am 
quite sure we can trust you to select a suitable 
evening gown for Sue.” 

The little stenographer glanced down at her 
simple white waist and plain black skirt, while 
the Judge beamed on her a fatherly smile. 

“I am glad you think I look nice,” she said 
with the simple directness that the Judge al- 
ways found so pleasing in his demure stenogra- 
pher. “But I never chose a party dress in my 
life. I would enjoy it very much, any girl 
would, and I think — yes, I am quite sure — I 
could find something pretty for Miss Roberts, 


168 FEOM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


for I remember her very well, but I ought to 
tell you I have had no experience. ’ 9 

“Do women have to have experience in such 
matters V 9 asked the Judge, smiling. “I 
thought that came naturally to a girl, a sort of 
sixth sense. But anyway, in spite of a lack of 
experience, I shall trust you. A young woman 
who can get up so excellent and tasteful a brief 
will certainly be able to choose a trifle like that. 
So put on your hat and run along, for the gown, 
it seems, must be there on the instant, therefore 
buy it ready-made. By the way, just add to it 
gloves and slippers, in fact, all that goes to 
make the ensemble — I’ve no doubt you know 
all about it. My wife has always attended to 
my daughter’s affairs of that sort, so I, like 
you, have had no experience ; and, as Davie ex- 
pressly states that Aunt Serena is not to be 
told, and since court requires my presence 
this morning, we, Davie and I, must throw our- 
selves upon your mercy. Bemember, the whole 
outfit, please.” 

“And the price?” inquired Miss Ore, her 
hand at the door and her foolish little heart 
all a-flutter with joy, as if it were her own 
gown she were to choose. “And the price?” 

“Winifred Ore,” said the Judge gravely, 
but his twinkling eyes betraying him, “I have 


IN MEMORY OF A ROSE 


169 


never before known you to ask a useless ques- 
tion. Tell them to send the bill to me and see 
that it is enough, and please drop this card in 
the box. ’ ’ 

“And, oh, mother/’ related Winnie Ore that 
evening, as she and her mother sat at their tea. 
“It was the greatest fun! I enjoyed it to my 
finger tips! I pretended I was going to a 
really, truly party and I could have cried with 
joy when I saw all my purchases laid in a big 
box. The gown, and the silk stockings, and 
the dear little slippers — I do so hope they will 
fit — I got long silk mitts to be sure of them at 
least, and then the darlingest fan ! I could just 
see Sue Roberts’ eyes dance when she opened 
it. You know I used to tell you how dear she 
was when she came in the office to see Judge 
Fulton. Such a bright smile and pretty, 
friendly ways, and don’t you remember the 
day she laid the big pink rose on my desk? 
You were sick then, and my heart was so heavy 
and it seemed so sweet and thoughtful of her, 
and I did wish I could do something nice for 
her someday, and then to think of this dear 
chance coming! I’m so happy, and I do hope 
she will remember the rose when she sees the 
little pink rosebuds among the lace. Oh, I do 
hope she will like it!” 


170 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


If Miss Ore had really grave doubts on that 
question, it is a great pity she could not have 
been present when Sue opened the big white 
box the expressman had just left. 

“To Sue from Davie and Uncle David, as- 
sisted by Miss Winifred Ore,” read Sue, sur- 
rounded by all the family. 

“Davie Roberts!” she exclaimed breath- 
lessly, but Davie had crept under the sofa in 
a sudden panic as the thought of his daring 
overcame him. “Davie Roberts, did you go 
and beg of dear, generous Uncle David?” 

“No, I did n’t,” came in muffled tones from 
under the sofa. “I didn’t beg a word, I sent 
him a mortgage on the pig. ’ ’ 

“A what?” shouted his bewildered family, 
and Phil, by a strategic move, grasped him by 
the collar and drew him into the light of day, 
disheveled and somewhat frightened, but still 
triumphant. 

“Why, Miss Banks said,” faltered Davie, 
“when you did n’t have any money you could 
give a mortgage on your prop’ty, and ain’t 
the pig my very own? Didn’t Mr. Brown 
give him to me and ain’t I fed him all sum- 
mer?” 

“I helped,” squealed Benny, who was so ex- 
cited he was capering all over the room. 


J COULD JUST SEE SUE ROBERT’S EYES DANCE WHEN SHE OPENED IT. 




































•* 




« 







* 










IN MEMORY OF A ROSE 


173 


“ ’Spose you did,” replied Davie indignantly, 
“I guess I lended you my fishing rod enough 
to pay for it. Did n’t I, Phil?” 

4 ‘Come here, my son,” said Mr. Roberts, for 
Sue had carried her box straight to father’s 
study. Someway, since father was not so 
strong, all the pleasantest things found their 
way in there. 6 6 Come, Davie, and tell me all 
about it.” 

So, standing between his father’s knees, 
Davie told how he had found Sue crying, of 
her forbidding him to tell father and Masie, 
of his great longing to help, and then of his 
splendid idea. 

A shout of merriment went up from the chil- 
dren at the unfolding of Davie’s story, but Mr. 
Roberts still looked grave and said so sternly 
that even Masie was surprised: 

4 4 Of course, my son, you should have con- 
sulted your mother and me about this, for even 
if the pig is yours, boys cannot attend to a 
matter of business such as a mortgage unless 
they have the consent of their parents. I want 
you to carry this right through. It is a matter 
of business between you and Uncle David and 
I shall expect when Mr. Reed pays you for 
the pig that the money shall at once be sent to 
him. My boys must learn that when they sign 


174 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


their name or give their word in a business it 
is entirely binding.’ ’ 

“Course,” assented Davie, manfully. “I 
never meant anything else. I’ll ask next time, 
father, but Sue can have her dress, can’t she?” 

“Yes, as a gift from her brother and uncle,” 
replied Mr. Roberts, dismissing his small son 
with a pat on the back. 

“0 Davie! you dear boy,” and Sue dropped 
on her knees by her little brother and caught 
him in her arms. 

“Le’ go,” cried Davie, struggling to get 
free. “I’ve no time for huggin’. I told Uncle 
David I’d take good care of his pig, and I ain’t 
fed him since noon. Le’ go, Sue, le’ go!” 

How the twins jumped up and down as Sue 
shook out the cream silk mull gown that rustled 
over its taffeta lining. How they “oh”ed and 
“ah”ed over the tiny bunches of pink rose- 
buds that peeped from among the lace, and the 
silk stockings, and the slippers that were a per- 
fect fit, when you had stuffed the toes with 
cotton, and the mitts and the little spangled 
fan. Even the fact that the gown proved some- 
what too long and too wide failed to daunt their 
glee. 

“ It is lovely, Sue, ’ ’ Betty assured her. “You 


IN MEMORY OF A ROSE 175 

can hold it up in front, and what if it does trail 
behind f ” 

“You might take Bennie and Davie to hold it 
up,” exclaimed Peggy. “Like the ladies in our 
picture book!” 

“You’ll need a reef in the side,” commented 
Phil remorselessly. “You look like you were 
poked in a meal bag.” 

Sue stood disconsolately before the mirror, 
pulling out the surplus folds that sagged about 
her slender figure. 

“It’s miles too big,” she sighed, “and the 
party will be to-morrow night!” 

“With troubles a-plenty, but never a frown, 

Their laughter goes up, and no tears run down.” 

hummed father, catching sight of her rueful 
face. 

Even Mrs. Roberts looked doubtful as she 
stroked the ruffles with a loving hand, her heart 
rejoicing not only over Sue’s happiness and her 
brother-in-law’s kindness, but far more over 
her little son’s unselfishness, for she understood 
Davie and knew that in his boyish way he had 
counted the cost. 

“There is so little time, dearie,” she said 
regretfully, “it would, I fear, have to be 
ripped. ’ * 


176 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


4 4 Oh, bother,’ * groaned Sue. 4 ‘ It is a bloom- 
ing shame, I think. I don’t care so awfully for 
myself as I do for Davie — it will almost break 
his heart, and dear little Miss Ore. I must 
run and write to her this minute, and blessed 
old Uncle David! Is all their goodness to go 
for nothing ?” 

“Law now, Miss Sue, don’t you go to worry- 
in’,” broke in Mandy Dobbin, who at the first 
hint of the good news had run upstairs to see 
for herself. “You don’t expect Mandy is 
a-goin’ to see you all disappointed like that, do 
you? Jest wait ’til I git my pies out of the 
oven and we’ll go right at it. Why, bless your 
heart, lambie, I’ll set up all night but you shall 
have it ! You shall wear it even if we don ’t git 
no hooks an’ eyes on it, an’ have to sew you 
up in it like a doll baby. Jest you trust Mandy 
Dobbin!” 


CHAPTER XII 


Virginia’s party 

A S the omnibus drew up to the steps of 
Kinikinnick and the girls fluttered down 
like a flock of white doves, Sue thought she 
had never dreamed of a sight so lovely. The 
great house was all alight ; the lawn festooned 
with garlands of fairy lamps and Chinese 
lanterns ; the croquet ground with its gay little 
candles sparkling from each arch; the pretty 
flower-decked tent upon the green, all this in 
the midst of the beautiful park lighted by the 
big yellow lantern of the moon, seemed like 
fairyland to her unaccustomed eyes. 

Up the broad stairs, past the village orches- 
tra twanging strings and rosining bows, flocked 
the doves to the dressing room, to preen their 
feathers and settle their wings, and the babble 
of merry tongues was punctuated with excla- 
mations and shrieks of girlish glee. 

“0 Virginia, it is perfectly swell !” cried 
Sue, for Virginia was too much one of the 
girls by this time to stand on ceremony, and 
177 


178 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


so had sped upstairs after them. “I’m so ex- 
cited I don’t know if I’m in slippers or over- 
shoes.” 

“We had the most fun coming!” Pink Morris 
looked up at Virginia with a laughing face from 
where she was struggling with an unruly slip- 
per fastening. “We had to wait fifteen 
minutes as usual, on Sue. Does n’t she look 
like an angel ! But from the way Mandy Dob- 
bin was giggling when Sue came out, I be- 
lieve there is some secret about her. Let’s in- 
vestigate ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Stand off!” shrieked Sue, threatening Pink 
with her fan. “I’m not to be examined closely, 
but I’m here, thank goodness. It was a very 
close shave!” 

“You all look lovely, and we are going to 
have the gayest time. Every one is here ex- 
cept Martha and Albert, ’ ’ said Virginia, giving 
a deft touch wherever it was needed, and dan- 
cing about on her tiptoes. “They are coming, 
of course?” 

“Oh, yes, we passed them on the road rolling 
slowly along in state; they really looked very 
grand with their driver up in front. It was 
Bill Lyons in Mr. Hill’s old silk hat, and an 
overcoat. Isn’t that rich? But, poor things, 
they looked so lonely and we were having such 


VIRGINIA’S PARTY 


179 


fun as w© dashed by. My, can’t Sid Reed 
sing! He forgot all about his bashfulness in 
the crowd and sang like a bird ! ’ ’ 

“Pink likes Will McBride’s voice better. 
Don’t you, Pinky, love?” teased Sue over her 
shoulder. 

‘ ‘ Martha is really going to Hope Hall, ’ ’ broke 
in Avis to spare her chum ’s blushes. 1 ‘ She told 
me so to-day. There, Fan, I’ll fasten your 
bracelet. ’ ’ 

“I know,” replied Virginia, putting an arm 
round Sue with a warning little pressure. 
“Aunty had a note from Mrs. Cutting, hoping 
we will have nice times together, and I am sure 
we will. ’ ’ 

“But, Sue, it’s a shame for you,” broke in 
Mildred tactlessly. “You’ll just hate it!” 

“Not at all. Masie had a letter from Mrs. 
Cutting, too,” replied Sue, leaning toward the 
mirror to give little jabs to her pompadour, 
and Virginia was surprised to see the face in 
the glass was sweetly smiling. But Mrs. Rob- 
erts and Sue had had a long talk that after- 
noon, over their sewing, and Sue had promised 
to put away any little personal jealousy against 
Martha as unworthy of her, and to do her best 
to win her friendship. It had seemed a very 
easy, pleasant task in that sunny, quiet room, 


180 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


with Masie’s sweet voice pleading with her and 
Masie’s smiling approval of her quick decision, 
and so she had promised heartily to say some- 
thing nice to Martha about her going. She 
meant to say it here at the party, for to-night 
in her joy in the gaiety, the lights, the music, 
her own pretty gown and the delight of it all, 
made it seem easy to be friends with saint or 
sinner, and so she added cheerily: “Oh, I ex- 
pect Virginia will help Martha and me to find 
each other and that we will be the best of 
friends by Christmas. We don’t really know 
each other yet. ’ ’ 

It was at this auspicious moment Martha 
Cutting swept grandly into the room, and all 
their chatter was forgotten in the breathless 
little murmur of approval that went up. 
Martha did look lovely, and if the train to her 
gown, and the aigrette in her hair were ab- 
surdly out of place for her years, the girls 
could not help a thrill of admiration over her 
beauty. Even Sue’s pink rosebuds, and Fan’s 
bracelet sank into littleness before Martha’s 
great bunch of roses, her long gloves and pearl 
necklace. She was in one of her prettiest 
moods, too, and no one could help liking Martha 
when she was at her best. 

“Oh, girls, isn’t it too lovely?” she cried. 


VIRGINIA’S PARTY 


181 


kissing Virginia and waving them all a gay 
greeting. “It is the most perfect night! My, 
how pretty yon look and yon are all ready to 
go down, too! Just wait ’til I get a dust of 
powder on my nose and I’m ready.” 

Avis gave a little gasp as Martha, all in a 
twitter, opened the blue and silver bag that 
hung on her arm, and produced a tiny powder 
puff from a little silver box. 

“Never mind your corn-starch, Mattie,” 
laughed Pink, a bit contemptuously, giving her 
a little push, for the idea of powder on 
Martha’s rose-leaf skin was too absurd; but 
Martha waved her away, and after another dab 
or two, and then daintily settling her filmy 
skirts, she was ready, and down they floated. 

Staid old Kinikinnick had never seen such 
capering in all its sleepy existence, such dan- 
cing upon the lawn, such games of blind-man’s 
buff and drop-the-handkerchief, such laughing, 
and singing, and racing back and forth, and the 
soul and center of it all was Sue. Her clear, 
strong voice led all the songs, and no girl 
danced so lightly, ran so swiftly, nor laughed 
so gaily. With her fleecy skirts tucked up, her 
curls flying, her bright, tantalizing laugh 
rippling out at every sally, there was more than 
one boy who thought she was the jolliest, pret- 
11 


182 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


tiest girl he had ever seen. There was danger, 
perhaps, that as her spirits arose her laugh 
rang too often and too loud, and that Sue’s fun 
became boisterous, and her gaiety a bit rude. 
At least, that is what Martha Cutting said 
to Belle Wilkins and Albert Reed, and her 
voice reached Sue’s ears distinctly as she 
swung in the hammock, on the veranda, in the 
shadow of the vines. She had just won two 
games of croquet with Thad as a partner, and 
he had brought her here to rest while he had 
gone to get her a glass of lemonade from the 
tent upon the lawn. 

“To be sure she is quite pretty,” remarked 
Martha. “She is bright, too, and rather dash- 
ing, but she is slangy and rude. You know, 
Belle, very well, that you would n’t be Sue Rob- 
erts for the world.” 

“But, Martha,” replied Belle, pleadingly, 
“Sue is so good and sweet. She is slangy, but 
she is very unselfish.” 

“Nonsense,” interrupted Martha disdain- 
fully. “I don’t know where you see it. I 
never saw a girl who pushed herself in as she 
does. She was n’t here a month until she was 
running after Virginia Clayton and her brother 
like a wild creature. Think of a refined, cul- 



JUST WAIT TILL I GET A DUST OF POWDER ON MY NOSE. 















































































VIRGINIA’S PARTY 


185 


tured girl like Virginia in such company — of 
course she don’t care to be followed by that 
tomboy, but what can she do?” 

“Then, why does she go away to school with 
Sue? I’m sure she doesn’t need to do that. 
Every one knows she is just going to be with 
Sue.” 

“Nonsense, Belle,” replied Martha, fanning 
herself nervously. “I don’t believe a word of 
it. I suppose Sue would say Thad is following 
her to-night, but I never saw anything so brazen 
in my life as the way she is running after him. ’ ’ 

At this last gibe Sue was out of the hammock 
with a bound, trembling with anger, her eyes 
flashing; but at that moment she became aware 
that Thad was standing beside her, his face 
very red and angry, but with a twinkle in his 
eyes as he turned toward her. 

‘ ‘ Slow and steady, Sue, ’ ’ he said softly, as he 
offered her the glass he had brought, with his 
best bow, exactly as if nothing had happened; 
“slow and steady. Sit down and drink your 
lemonade. Miss Cutting will keep, you know.” 

But Sue sank back in the hammock, her 
hands clenched, her teeth shut tight to keep 
back the anger that was raging in her. 

“Did you hear what she said, Thad?” she 


186 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


gasped at last. “I’m so furious I feel like 
doing all sorts of dreadful things to her. When 
I get through with her — !” 

Thad laughed. All this was so different from 
Virginia’s anger, that cold dignity that always 
swept his sister out of the room and kept her 
still for a week, that he hardly understood how 
to deal with it. But this was Sue’s way, she 
had flared up like a torch; he had reached her 
just in time, a moment more and her wrath 
would have swept her out into the light where 
Martha was sitting and there would have been 
a scene. 

“Slow and steady,” said Thad again, offer- 
ing her the glass. “It is all right, Sue. I 
heard what she said, but who cares? Virginia 
told me this morning you are the dearest friend 
she ever had, and I guess you knew that any- 
way; as to what she said about me, why, that 
is foolishness. If there has been any following 
after, I did it, not you.” 

“It is n’t that,” groaned Sue. “I know Vir- 
ginia loves me, and any one acquainted with 
me knows I don’t push in, but 0 Thad, it is n’t 
the things that are n’t true that hurt so! It’s 
the being rude and slangy. Of course I am, 
but I hate to hear Martha Cutting say it, and 
then I have given my mother my solemn prom- 


VIRGINIA’S PARTY 


187 


ise to try and like Martha, and to tell her I hope 
we will be good friends at school, and I don’t 
want to like her nor be near her. I just hate 
her, she is such a cat ! ’ ’ 

4 4 It’s a beastly shame about her going at all, 
Sue,” consoled Thad, sitting down by her. 
4 4 But it can’t be helped now, and the best thing 
it seems to me, would be to get along with as 
few rows as possible. That is the difference in 
being a boy or a girl. If you were both hoys 
you could wait until to-morrow, and then meet 
her — or rather him — around a corner and give 
her — I mean him — an everlasting trouncing and 
thrash all the nonsense out of her — him. Then 
you would get up, dust off your clothes, shake 
hands and be friends for the rest of your lives. 
But as it is I can’t see any way but to laugh 
it down and make yourself so nice she can’t 
help liking you.” 

4 4 That’s all very well,” flung out Sue, 4 4 but 
I like a boy’s way far better. If I could hit 
her I think I could forgive her afterward, but 
this smiling business, when you are boiling 
within, I don’t think is good for one’s morals. 
Oh, if I could only thump her good and hard ! ’ ’ 

4 4 But really you can’t, you know,” laughed 
Thad ; he was half teasing, though all his sym- 
pathy was with her. 4 4 She is jealous, that is 


188 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


what is the matter with her, Sue, and I would n’t 
pay any attention to it. ’ ’ 

“Jealous,” cried Sue, opening her black eyes 
big at him. “Martha jealous of me! Why, 
that’s what Masie is afraid is the matter with 
me, and it may be, though I had never thought 
of it. But there are plenty of reasons why I 
might be jealous of Martha Cutting, she is so 
pretty, and can play and sing so well, beside 
paint and do lots of things I can’t and then, 
she is generally so smooth and sort of — silky, 
you know, while I’m a burr, Thad, a regular 
burr ! ’ ’ 

“Well, you may be a burr, Sue, perhaps you 
are, and Martha may paint and play better, 
but I guess there are plenty of reasons why 
the jealousy might be on Martha’s side. Why, 
she can’t hold a candle to you in singing, Sue, 
and as for being pretty,” and Thad shame- 
facedly laid his hand on Sue’s. “Why, she 
can’t be named in the same day.” 

“Don’t be a silly, Thad,” snapped Sue, jerk- 
ing her hand away and blushing to the roots 
of her hair. “I’m not pretty a bit, and I won’t 
have you say so. You can let me go now, for 
I am over my maddest mad, and I shan’t make 
a scene. Get up, please, you are sitting on my 
ruffles. ’ ’ 


VIRGINIA’S PARTY 


189 


“But, Sue,” whispered Thad again, bending 
nearer. “I think you are the prettiest, j oiliest 
girl I ever saw!” 

“And I think you are the biggest goose this 
side the pond,” replied Sue saucily. 

“I never saw such a girl,” growled Thad, 
angrily springing to his feet. “Here I have 
been tagging you around all evening, and most 
girls would have been grateful.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, you have, have you 1 And that is what 
made Martha so hopping!” cried Sue, con- 
temptuously. “Well, I’m not grateful a bit! 
Go talk to her like that; I don’t doubt she’ll 
think it fine. There goes Bruce Morris, I’ll 
go and dance with him.” But when she had 
skipped down the steps and glanced back to see 
Thad still standing there looking very red and 
angry, she flew back again and said, frankly 
holding out her hand: 

“There, Thad, I like you awfully when you 
are nice and brotherly, as you usually are, and 
I need not have been so cross anyway, for you 
were lovely about Martha and kept me from 
making a goose of myself. Let’s be friends, 
only don’t put on frills and quirks with me, 
for it always either makes me want to laugh, 
or be dreadfully cross, and you don’t like 
either.” 


190 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Thad took her hand, though still nettled, and 
then said in a condescending tone that made 
Sue’s eyes flash again: 

“I forgot for the moment that in spite of 
your fifteen years you are nothing but a child. ’ ’ 

“Fiddlesticks,” sniffed Sue. “You are only 
two years older, so you needn’t put on such 
airs. But I am not going to quarrel with any- 
body to-night, for I promised my mother I 
would try to keep my temper, so I’m going! 
Good-by, Thad.” 

“Good-by, little girl,” said Thad, still too 
angry to resist this parting shot, and then 
turning he devoted himself assiduously to 
gentle little Avis, embarrassing her so she could 
not find a word to say, and she was relieved be- 
yond measure when Sid came to bashfully claim 
her for a dance. 

Meanwhile Sue had sought out Pink Morris 
to tell her tale of woe about Martha — she was 
wise enough not to mention her quarrel with 
Thad — for Pink had a very knowing head on 
her young shoulders. 

“Don’t pay any attention to it,” advised 
that astute young person. “All that is the 
matter is, she wanted Thad Clayton trailing 
after her and he did n’t trail ! That is all in the 
world that ails her, Sue. She would have said 


VIRGINIA’S PARTY 


191 


the same thing about Avis, or Fan, or me, if she 
had had the occasion.” 

6 6 Goodness gracious ! ’ ’ groaned Sue. 4 4 Why, 
she’d have been as welcome to Thad as the 
flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la!” 

“You are a dear, Sue Roberts,” said Pink 
softly, and then she suddenly leaned over and 
gave Sue a kiss. The kiss surprised Sue, and 
pleased her very much, for Pink was not given 
to caresses, and someway under its loving in- 
fluence Sue felt her anger and resentment melt- 
ing away, and she was glad to notice Thad was 
dancing with Martha when she went to find 
Virginia to see if she could be of any use. She 
found Virginia in the midst of a merry game 
with the little folks, Mildred and Bruce helping 
her. 

“0 Sue,” Virginia whispered, “I’m so glad 
you’ve come. You please take my place until 
I slip away to see if they are not nearly ready 
for us in the dining-room. Just think, Thad 
has promised to play on his violin! Is n’t that 
fine?” 

Sue, in her keen enjoyment of the “questions 
and answers,” soon forgot all her troubles and 
was quite over her huff when the Japanese 
gong summoned them. Indeed she was so oc- 
cupied she never saw Martha’s glance of tri- 


192 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


umph, as she sailed by on Thad’s arm, for 
Martha and Albert had had a tiff, and he was 
consoling himself with kind little Avis. 

And even if Sue had still felt angry with 
Thad she would have quite forgiven him when, 
after the merry supper, he slipped away to get 
his violin, and then, standing modestly in the 
arch, he played the “ Gondoliera ’ ’ with such 
expression and delicacy that music-loving 
Sue’s eyes were filled with tears and her 
heart grew very tender toward the whole 
world. 

Indeed, still under the influence of the music, 
as the girls once more trooped up to the dress- 
ing room for their wraps, she found it very easy 
to slip her hand through Martha’s arm and 
say naturally and earnestly : 

“I do hope, Martha, when we get to Hope 
Hall we will learn to know and understand 
each other better. I’m sure we will have lovely 
times there. Has n’t Virginia’s party been a 
great success?” 

But Martha drew rather pettishly away, re- 
marking it was very warm, and that she had 
torn her flounce, and lost her handkerchief, 
parties were always such bores. At school? 
Know each other better? Well, she expected 
to be very busy, as she was only going to Hope 


VIRGINIA’S PARTY 


193 


Hall to prepare for an eastern school, and in- 
tended doing a great deal of study. 

Up in the dressing room all was gaiety and 
clatter, for in spite of weariness, mussed gowns 
and wilted flowers, they had had a beautiful 
time, and all save Martha were in the best 
spirits. 

Sue found a moment in the midst of the 
laughter and noise to say a word to Thad, as 
they stood waiting for the omnibus, and pro- 
voked as he had been with her, he had to think 
the girlish face, so bright-eyed and kindly, very 
attractive under its lace scarf. 

“Please, Thad,” she said, “I want to tell 
you how well I think you play. I enjoyed your 
music most of anything, Thad. It was very 
lovely . 9 9 

Thad had missed her voice amid the enthusi- 
astic praise that had greeted him, and some- 
way these simple words spoken out of a true 
appreciation meant a great deal, since Thad 
loved his music next to his science. 

“Thank you, Sue,” he said heartily. “And 
I hope you will pardon me if I hurt you in any 
way, for I would like to be your good friend, 
right along with Virginia, if I may . 9 9 

“Indeed, indeed,” whispered back Sue, her 
face all aglow, as it always was when she was 


194 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


touched. “I am glad and proud to have you 
for my friend. It is only I don’t like — ” 
i 4 Frills and quirks,’ ’ laughed Tliad. “All 
right, we’ll drop them. But you won’t always 
be a little girl, Sue.” 

“Yes, I shall. I don’t ever mean to grow 
up,” she called back over her shoulder, as she 
went to Virginia for a last good-night. 

A few moments later the old omnibus lum- 
bered down the road, and back to the little 
group standing on the veranda steps, came 
floating until it died way in the distance: 

“Good night, ladies, 

We’re going to leave you now.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


HOPE HALL 

T HEY stood upon the broad stone steps, 
looking wistfully through the screen 
doors into the shadowy hall beyond. They 
could see girls strolling up and down, arm in 
arm, talking, laughing and now and then glan- 
cing with some curiosity in their direction. 
But no one came to admit them, though under 
Sue’s impatient hand the bell more than once 
tinkled wildly, then died away in silence, leaving 
them gazing helplessly at each other. 

“Well, of all things, this is the ‘beatin’est,’ as 
Mandy says!” gasped Sue, setting her travel- 
ling bag down on the step and taking a firmer 
hold upon the bell handle. 4 ‘ I believe we have 
struck an asylum for the deaf and dumb.” 

“It says Hope Hall on the door plate, any- 
way,” replied Virginia, peering through the 
screen. ‘ ‘ Oh, Sue, I do wish they would hurry, 
for I think I heard the tea bell just then, and I 
am starving. Are n’t you?” 

“Perfectly famished. Oh, at last!” she 
195 


196 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


sighed, as a colored boy in livery ran down the 
stairs at the end of the hall and came toward 
them. “They were waiting for the bellboy. 
How stupid of us not to think of it ! ' ' 

“We wish to see Miss Hope,” announced 
Virginia, giving the boy her card. 

4 4 You 's some ob de new young ladies, I 
'spects,” said the boy, grinning and showing 
his gleaming teeth. “Walk right into the 'cep- 
tion room, and I’ll go an’ tell Mis’ Rood. Miss 
Hope, she won't be here 'til to-morrow. She 
done gone to New York,” and taking their cards 
he hurried away, leaving the two girls in the 
big, quiet room, dusky and dim in the twilight. 
Through the stillness they could hear the quick 
tripping of girlish feet, a low spoken word, and 
now and then subdued laughter as some one 
passed the door. 

4 4 I never felt so funny in my life, ’ ' whispered 
Sue, nestling closer to Virginia, as they sat 
stiff and prim on the big sofa, looking very 
little and forlorn in the gloom and strangeness 
of it all. “Sort of queer and all-overish.” 

4 4 1 know, that is the way you always feel at a 
new school,” comforted Virginia, slipping an 
arm around her chum. It was usually Sue who 
was the brave one, but the day had been very 
hard on poor Sue ; the wrench at leaving home 


NEVER FELT SO FUNNY IN MY LIFE, WHISPERED SUE. 















HOPE HALL 


199 


had been much harder than she had anticipated. 
It had been so different, the pleasant talking 
and dreaming of going away, from the real 
leave-taking; kissing her mother for the last 
time, looking into her father’s eyes — father so 
wan and worn in the early dawn of the Septem- 
ber day — and then the saying good-by to the 
children. Even now as she thought of them a 
big lump came up in her throat. She felt she 
had disgraced herself beyond measure by cry- 
ing half the day, but someway the memory of 
their eight dear faces looking at her through 
the car window — for even Mandy had asked to 
see her off — took all the spring of joy out of 
her, and here was Virginia as brave as could 
be. But when Sue remarked about this differ- 
ence, Virginia’s bright face had instantly 
clouded and the dark eyes filled with tears. 

“It is this way, you see,” she faltered. 
“Father and Thad have already sailed, Aunt 
Sibyl leaves for Washington next week. Why, 
even Toddlekins will be happier at Cherryfair 
with the children than at Kinikinnick, so who 
will miss me, or whom have I to leave? No 
place has seemed really like home since mamma 
is gone.” 

But now they were at Hope Hall and the bell- 
boy was back again, picking up their travelling 


200 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


bags and bidding them follow him. They went 
through the dusky hall, up the stairs, past long 
rows of numbered doors, some open, giving 
glimpses of dainty, girlish belongings, while 
here and there a girl hurried by giving them 
greeting with a smile and bow. 

“Dey ain’t many ob de young ladies heah 
yet,” explained their guide, “but by Wednes- 
day we’ll be runnin’ fine. Dis is Mis’ Rood’s 
sittin’ room; she ain’t in the office after fo’ 
o ’clock. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Rood stood in the bay window looking 
with great interest at the two cards she held 
in her hand; one dainty and delicately en- 
graved, the other written in little lame Jim- 
mie’s most flourishing hand upon a yellowish 
card with beveled edges. She looked up with 
a smile as Sue and Virginia, in answer to her 
summons, opened the door. 

Mrs. Rood was a large woman of perhaps 
sixty ; her black silk gown and embroidered col- 
lar fastened with a jet brooch, and her fluffy 
white cap, with wide strings that floated out 
behind her as she came to welcome them, made 
a pleasant setting for her broad, calm face and 
double chin. 

“I am sure,” said Mrs. Rood, in a full 
throaty voice, “this is Miss Virginia Clayton, 


HOPE HALL 


201 


Professor Clayton’s daughter,” and she turned 
her smiling face toward Virginia. “And this, 
I presume, is Mrs. Fulton’s niece, Miss Roberts. 
I don’t think I understand the first name, 
S-I-O-U-X l How very odd and original, ’ ’ and 
she again studied intently Jimmie’s flighty 
flourishes. 

“Oh, you see,” explained Sue, airily, “that’s 
the way I spell it. My real name is Susan 
Plenty.” 

“Susan Plenty! Oh, I understand, 
S-I-O-U-X, Sue, to be sure. How very stupid 
of me, but, you see, I had never known of it 
being used as a name for a young lady. Ah, I 
see, I see,” and Mrs. Eood was plainly amused 
as she laid aside the card. “And now,” she 
said, ‘ ‘ the second tea hell will ring immediately, 
so I am afraid I can give you but a moment to 
prepare. This way, please. Be as quick as 
you can, young ladies. You may sit with me 
for to-night at least.” The tone was short and 
imperative, and the girls found themselves 
moving like soldiers to obey. 

“She gives me the cold shivers,” whispered 
Sue, as Mrs. Rood left them for a moment. 
“Did you see that look she gave me when I 
told her my real name?” 

“Nonsense, Sue. I like her ever so much. 

12 


202 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


She is ‘ school marcny,’ they all get like that, 
and so would you and I, if we were forever at 
it. But she is nice, and a lady, and I have had 
some I did not thinkvwere. Beside, she is n’t 
the principal. It is Miss Hope I want to see. 
Is my hair all right ! ’ ’ 

6 ‘ Move your side comb over that way. 
There, that’s fine! Bother, I can’t do a thing 
with mine, but come along, honey.” And Sue, 
with a last pat to her curly locks, opened the 
door, then two meek little maidens followed in 
the wake of the rustling black silk and the 
floating cap strings. 

“I never felt so goody-goody in my life,” 
breathed Sue softly from the corner of her 
mouth, scarcely moving a muscle of her face, 
and with her eyes set straight ahead as if she 
were in a trance. “I’m just ready to go up in 
a hand basket, and if you make me laugh at the 
table I shall stick you with my belt pin ’til 
you’ll howl right out!” 

“Sue Roberts, do behave!” breathed Vir- 
ginia, also from the corner of her mouth, but 
gazing unwinkingly at the cap strings. “For 
goodness’ sake, please-e-e don’t cut up any 
capers to-night, and oh, Sue, don’t make me 
laugh ! ’ ’ 

“Virginia, I’m going to sneeze,” came from 


HOPE HALL 


203 


Sue’s puckered lips, and she gripped Virginia’s 
arm fiercely in pretended terror. “The roof 
will fly off if I do ! ” 

“Sh-h-h, for mercy’s sake.” Virginia’s 
eyes were fairly set in her head from trying not 
to laugh, and in dread of what Sue might take 
it in her flighty head to do. “Sh-h-h-h, she will 
hear you, Sue! Don’t disgrace us both the 
very first night. Mercy be, here is the dining- 
room, I hear the dishes rattle. What a nar- 
row escape!” 

“Not many of our girls are back,” remarked 
Mrs. Rood, turning her placid face toward 
them, as Virginia and Sue followed her down 
the room. “Most of them will arrive to-mor- 
row. We wrote you to come to-day, as we like 
to get all the new girls settled before work be- 
gins. These two young ladies at my table also 
arrived to-day. Miss Carr and Miss Wills, I 
bring you two new friends, Miss Roberts and 
Miss Clayton.” 

Sue felt the lump return to her throat the 
very first glimpse she had of little Miss Wills. 
There was no doubt about Miss Wills, she was 
homesick already, and she did n’t care who knew 
it. Her plain, freckled face was swollen with 
weeping, her pale blue eyes swimming with 
tears, and she was making ineffectual dabs at 


204 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


the hot salt drops that insisted upon trickling 
down her scalded cheeks with a damp little 
wad of a handkerchief. Miss Carr, who proved 
to be Miss Wills’s roommate — they had met in 
the reception room on their arrival, sworn eter- 
nal friendship in the first fifteen minntes, and 
already cordially hated each other — was a qniet 
gray-eyed girl, with a good deal of force of 
character in her square chin and firm month, 
and if she felt forlorn she showed no evidence 
of it, as she shook hands with Sue and Virginia. 
Miss Wills was too washed-out and limp with 
weeping to more than feebly nod, and Mrs. 
Rood, grown used to homesick girls during 
forty years of teaching, paid no attention to her 
dismal condition. 

There were perhaps fifteen or eighteen girls 
scattered about the room, some of them sad and 
teary, but others, evidently old friends and glad 
to be together, for laughter and the pleasant 
murmur of voices drifted to Mrs. Rood’s silent 
table. The happy laughter seemed so apart 
that Sue never felt more depressed in her life, 
what with Miss Wills’s subdued sniffling, the 
lump in her own throat, the placid calm of Mrs. 
Rood’s unsmiling face, which, in spite of the 
fluffy cap, was like the face of the statue of 
Buddha — just as serene and unapproachable — 


HOPE HALL 


205 


why, one might as well be dead and buried as 
in such a dismal spot. 

In after days, when the big dining-room had 
grown as dear and familiar as the sunny room 
at Cherryfair, Sue often thought of the gloom 
and heartsickness with which she regarded its 
dull red walls that night, the broad windows 
with their silk curtains, the great palm by the 
piano, the polished floor and many round tables, 
all so different from home. 

“It is a beautiful room, ,, Virginia hastily 
whispered, seeing Sue’s lips quiver, “I know 
we shall love Miss Hope . 9 9 

What were they doing at home, Sue won- 
dered, were they thinking of her? Were they 
— then a tear trickled out from under her lid 
and went sliding down her cheek. 

“I am afraid you will never forgive me, Mrs. 
Rood, but I was so absorbed in my book I quite 
forgot tea. Oh, I hope you have something 
good for me, for I am as hungry as a hunter.” 

It seemed to Sue that her tears evaporated 
at the very sound of that cheery, sunny voice, 
the lump in her throat vanished in a twinkling, 
the laugh that was usually in her heart sprang 
to her lips, her eyes shone and there was Miss 
Burns Gribble smiling at her — it was really a 
case of love at first sight. 


206 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


It didn’t make the least difference to Sue 
that the newcomer was too tall, and too thin, 
nor that the face was plain, and the gray eyes 
squinted back of the glasses, nor that she was 
no longer young. She hardly noticed the beau- 
tiful coils of red hair, nor the pretty white 
hands, nor the winsome smile, she only knew 
she had found a friend. Who can explain the 
subtle thing that draws us one to the other, 
that strange joy of comradeship? Sue, buoy- 
ant, wholesome Sue, did n’t give a thought as 
to whether it was because their “auras 
blended,” or because they were born under the 
same sign of the zodiac, she just accepted a new 
friend with all her impulsive heart and went on 
her way rejoicing. 

“Our vocal teacher, Miss Gribble,” said 
Mrs. Rood, her own face lighting, for she was 
fond of Burns Gribble— most people were — and 
the reason wasn’t hard to find. With tactful 
choice she seated herself between Sue and little 
Miss Wills, turning a smiling face toward the 
one while her pretty white hand stole into the 
other girl’s lap to find the poor little cold hand 
with the damp ball in it, the gentle pressure of 
that kind hand had seemed to say “poor little 
girl, I understand.” Then there was a bril- 
liant flash of a smile toward Virginia, and a 


HOPE HALL 


207 


quick friendly nod to Alice Carr, and the silent 
woebegone table was galvanized into hope and 
joy again, and life was absolutely worth living. 

‘ 4 First nights are always so horrid,” declared 
Miss Gribble in a vibrant whisper that included 
them all in an intimate friendship. “I can re- 
member just how I felt. But, girls, we are 
going to have the most beautiful time of our 
lives this year, I just feel it! Don’t you, Mrs. 
Rood? And after tea we are going to get 
those two new girls over at that table, and 
those two over there, and that one by the win- 
dow, and I’m going to sing you the j oiliest 
little coon song you ever heard, and then we 
are all going to get our hats and walk out to 
see the moon come up over the river. Pshaw, 
first nights can ’t last for ever ! ’ ’ 

By this time every one was smiling; even 
Miss Wills sent a watery little gleam toward 
Miss Gribble. In ten minutes more Miss Grib- 
ble had them all in a gale of glee — Mrs. Rood 
breaking into low chuckles now and then — as 
she told them of her youngest nephew’s pranks, 
of her vacation and the delights of all sorts that 
had been hers during the summer. 

“Let me see,” she said at last. “Aren’t 
you two girls, Miss Roberts and Miss Clayton, 
from Monroe ? Then I believe there is another 


208 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


girl coming from your town, is there not? I 
met her aunt in Dexter this summer, a Miss 
Curtis, or something like that. Am I not 
right ?” 

‘ 4 Oh yes, Martha Cutting , 9 9 replied Virginia, 
a little smile, in spite of herself, curling her 
lips, for Martha had refused to come so early, 
saying she didn’t care to arrive with the mob 
but wanted to make a dignified entrance. ‘ ‘ She 
will not be here until Thursday.” 

“That is a pity,” remarked Mrs. Rood, “as 
all the best rooms will be taken and the best 
hours chosen for practice. You came at the 
very best time, my dears.” 

“The early bird catches the worm at Hope 
Hall, you see, as everywhere else,” laughed 
Miss Gribble. “Are either of you to be one of 
my girls? You look as if you were musical.” 

“I shall have piano, but Sue sings beauti- 
fully,” replied Virginia with a gesture of pride 
toward Sue. 

“And you two are the greatest friends, I 
can see that. Well, I have Miss Carr and Miss 
Wills on one side of me, and Mrs. Rood, if you 
don’t mind, I should like to take these two 
chicks under my other wing. That room next 
mine with the bay window is empty, and, you 
know, I always like to choose my neighbors.” 


HOPE HALL 


209 


“Oh, may we!” cried both girls at once, look- 
ing up with such pleading eyes that Mrs. Rood 
nodded indulgently. 

It was with entirely different feelings the 
girls climbed the long stairs the second time. 
Then they were strangers, in a strange land, 
now they had a friend and a room, and even if 
they had never seen the room it was sure to 
seem homelike with this cheery presence near. 

“Isn’t she bully ?” whispered Sue to Alice 
Carr as they ascended the stair together. Vir- 
ginia was on one side of their divinity, while 
Miss Wills still clung to that rescuing hand as 
if she were afraid she might drown in the flood 
of her own tears should she let go. 

“She is a lovely lady,” replied Miss Carr a 
bit stiffly, though she had taken Sue’s arm a 
moment before. “I hardly think I should de- 
scribe her as bully!” 

Sue bit her lip over this most unlucky blunder 
and decided in her headlong way that Alice 
Carr was a prig, and that she wasn’t going to 
like her, but just then Miss Gribble paused be- 
fore a door marked 21 and said cheerily : 

“Well, my dears, here you are at home.” 


CHAPTEE XIV 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

T HE sun was streaming into the big, bare, 
bay window, when Sue roused by the jan- 
gle of a bell opened her sleepy eyes. Slowly 
the feeling of strangeness stole over her drowsy 
senses and she sat up dazed and winking. 

Virginia upon her knees before her trunk 
lifted a laughing, rosy face from its depths as 
she heard Sue stirring. 

“Good morning, sleepy girl,” she said gaily, 
“I’ve been up and dressed an hour. But you 
don’t need to hurry, that was only the rising 
bell.” 

“ Goodness gracious, child,” gasped Sue. 
“Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t 
want to miss a moment of really being here! 
What is the reason that stockings always will 
be wrong side out when you are in the biggest 
hurry ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, Sue, we are the luckiest girls, the view 
from our window is over the river and it is 
beautiful. It was so kind of Miss Gribble to 
210 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 211 

get this room for ns. Yon know it is only- 
empty because some senior decided not to come, 
back. ’ ’ 

“ Blessings on the senior, and oh, won’t 
'Martha- be hopping when she gets here and 
finds she’s left! Isn’t it the biggest old joke. 
She was so high and mighty when she said that 
about not caring to arrive with the ‘mob.’ 
Won’t it be fun to see her in some dinky little 
back room!” 

“I . . . don’t . . . know ... ” 

said Virginia, slowly sinking back upon the 
floor and clasping her hands about her knees. 
“I didn’t mean to tell you, Sue, but . . . 

you see, I really do like Martha, and even if I 
didn’t ... I knew she would feel horrid 
to come and have some unpleasant room 
. . . when I was here and might have, 

helped ... I asked Mrs. Rood last night 
to please arrange it. She said it was unusual, 
but at last she consented, and while you were 
singing for Miss Gribble I chose a room I am 
sure Martha will like. You don’t care, Sue?” 

‘ ‘ Care ! ’ ’ cried Sue, tumbling down in a heap 
beside Virginia. “Care, you precious! Yes, 
I care! and a lot more than care! To think I 
am the one to forget so quickly what father and 
mother are always trying to teach me, and you 


212 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 

to remember! I’m glad, Virginia! I truly 
am!” 

“And you don’t think I’m trying to act 
goody-goody?” whispered Virginia with her 
head on Sue’s shoulder. “I really . . .yes, 

I thought it would be lots of fun to see her dis- 
may when I first thought of it, but really 

“But really this is a hundred times better. 
I ’m not going to say I love Martha, I may some 
time, but I don ’t now, but I ’m glad I did n ’t get 
a chance to act mean.” 

“And you don’t think ... ” 

“That you are trying to preach to me? Not 
a bit of it! But goodness, I’ve got to hurry, 
or I’ll get my head taken off the very first day !” 

Virginia and Sue — Sue very jaunty in her 
dyed jacket — opened their door at the first tap 
of the breakfast bell. 

“Good morning, dicky birds, on time, I 
see,” came in a cheery voice from Miss Grib- 
ble’s open door. “One moment and I will go 
with you. Ah, here is Miss Carr and Miss 
Wills,” went on Miss Gribble, coming out just 
as the two girls appeared. “I notice we never 
have any lazy girls the first morning. I hope 
you all slept well. This is going to be a glo- 
rious day. Good morning, good morning!” 



• - 


v >: ... 


VIRIGNIA AND SUE OPENED THEIR DOUR AT THE FIRST 
TAP OF THE BREAKFAST BELL. 








f* 





















































a 




GETTING ACQUAINTED 215 

The girls were appearing from all directions 
now and trooping together down the broad 
stairway, and it was pretty to see how each 
face brightened at Miss Gribble’s greeting. 

“Good morning, young ladies. Good morn- 
ing !” said a black-eyed, white-haired little 
woman, who, standing just inside the dining- 
room with Mrs. Rood, offered her hand to the 
girl nearest her. 

“Why, Miss Hope!” cried the girl. It was 
May Price, one of the older girls to whom Sue 
had taken a great fancy the night before. 
“Why, Miss Hope, when did you arrive? We 
had n’t an idea you would be with us for break- 
fast !” 

“Ah, my dears / ’ said Miss Hope, and catch- 
ing her gown up daintily on either side she 
made a gay, sweeping courtesy to the whole 
group. “Did you really think I would let you 
get on without me? I surprised our good Mrs. 
Rood at the midnight hour that I might have 
the pleasure of breakfasting with you. How 
do you do, Miss Gribble. Ah, here are Miss 
Sargent, Miss White, Miss Decker and Fraulein 
Prather. Now all our teachers are here, ex- 
cept Miss Childs and our new teacher, Miss 
Thaw, who will arrive to-day. We are all 
going to do exceptional work after our long 


216 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


vacation, I am sure. After breakfast I shall 
expect to meet the young ladies in my offices. 
Miss Decker, I will take breakfast at your table, 
with your permission. I have not quite de- 
cided upon my guests for the year.” 

“Oh, Miss Hope, please !” cried a dozen of 
the older girls beseechingly. 

Miss Hope laughed and waving them a gay 
denial took Miss Decker’s arm and crossed the 
room. 

“You see,” said May Price to Sue, “it is 
considered a very great privilege to sit at Miss 
Hope’s table. But you new girls must n’t think 
she is always gay like that. My, just wait until 
you see those black eyes flash and that little 
figure stiffen up, and if you don’t feel like 
creeping under the sofa you are a braver girl 
than I am ! ’ ’ 

“Isn’t she kind?” asked Virginia. 

“Oh, so-so,” replied May, shrugging her 
shoulders. “She’s strong on discipline, and 
somewhat capricious, I think, but most of the 
girls adore her.” 

As the girls filed into the office that morning 
it seemed to Sue that her heart had never 
beaten so hard nor so fast in her life. Among 
the new girls she and Virginia were the first 
called. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 217 

Miss Hope sat in her swivel chair before her 
desk. Sue felt those black eyes saw and under- 
stood every fault within and without. She 
drew a long breath as the thought flashed 
through her mind that her stockings were new 
and her skirt freshly bound, and every button 
upon her shoes, but the knowledge that in her 
hurry she had torn the lace at her throat and 
had to pin it together caused a quick blush to 
rise to her cheeks. 

“So this is Miss Virginia Clayton,’ ’ said 
Miss Hope, offering her hand to Virginia. 
“You have a father to be proud of, my dear, 
and I hope you will do your best to make him 
proud of you. Miss Sargent, whom you will 
see in the library, will attend to your classes 
and standings. Mrs. Rood tells me you have 
been given a room and roommate, and Miss 
Gribble has asked that both you and your room- 
mate be placed at her table, and as long as you 
are both good I have no objection. And this 
is Susan Roberts, Mrs. Fulton’s niece. My 
dear, I first knew your aunt when she was 
Serena Roberts, the prettiest, liveliest girl at 
Madam Whitney’s academy. I think she was 
the veriest madcap I ever knew. ’ ’ 

“Aunt Serena!” gasped Sue in astonish- 
ment, in spite of her fear of Miss Hope. “Aunt 


218 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Serena a madcap! Why, I supposed she was 
a regular woolly lamb! She is always giv- 
ing me Hail Columbia for every old thing I 
do!” 

It was Virginia’s turn to gasp now, although 
Miss Hope made no reply to Sue’s startling 
speech, except a sharp glance, but turning to 
her desk she searched a moment for a letter 
which she looked over hastily. 

“Yes, I see, I see,” she remarked. “I had 
almost forgotten. Well, you see, Miss Roberts, 
as one grows older there often takes place a 
great change in character, in mind and manner 
just as there does in appearance, or else all 
our teaching, studying, working and praying 
would be for naught. I am glad you two girls 
are to be together. Miss Sargent is waiting 
for you now and will attend to your placing,” 
— she dismissed them with an imperative wave 
of her hand and a keen smile that lightened her 
face without warming it. May Price was right, 
thought Sue, she could hardly believe this was 
the gay little figure with the sweeping cour- 
tesy. 

“What do you think of her, Virginia?” 
asked Sue, as the two girls passed out and 
walked down the hall toward the library. 
“Aren’t you surprised? She isn’t a bit as 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 219 

I expected from those violet letters. I would n’t 
care to get on the wrong side of her.” 

“She is the most distinguished-looking small 
woman I ever saw, Sue. There are moments 
when she is beautiful. She is n ’t at all like any 
teacher I have ever had, but I like her ever so 
much. When you said that awful thing about 
your Aunt Serena, though, I almost sank, for I 
expected to see you dragged off to a dungeon, 
but she never seemed to hear it. ’ ’ 

“She heard it all right, honey, don’t you 
doubt that, I felt a shiver down my spine the 
moment those words left my lips, and those 
black eyes said something, I couldn’t quite make 
out, but it meant that it would be ‘all day with 
Susie’ if she didn’t be good. But, all the same 
I liked her, Virginia. She’s the sort you can 
tie to.” 

“Well,” cried May Price, skipping down the 
hall after them. “Did you fall under the 
Prexie ’s spell ? Is n ’t she fine ! Frightened 
you out of your wits, I suppose, poor little 
firsties! I feel for you deeply. I will admit 
I was trying to frighten you this morning, 
but she certainly is a Tartar if you once rouse 
her and let her know you don ’t intend to study, 
or be what she calls a ‘tru-u-u-r woman.’ 
I’d rather have Miss Hope call me a ‘tru-u- 

13 


220 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


u-r woman’ than be knighted. But I never 
expect it, for that only comes to a very select 
few. ’ ’ 

“Pets?” inquired Sue. 

“No-o-o,” mused May. “You couldn’t 
tell the truth and say Elizabeth Hope has pets. 
She is the sort you can win only by your in- 
ward grace. Oh, you can’t beg, buy, borrow, 
nor even steal your way into her favor ! I have 
seen every one of those ways tried, too. You 
can get there by just one route, namely, to earn 
it, and I’m here to tell you the way is long and 
stony. She is slow, but she’s sure, and there 
isn’t any mothering in her, not a mite, for all 
she is so little, and pretty, and almost girl- 
ishly gay at times; so don’t be expecting any 
sloppings-over. ” 

‘ ‘ Any one can see that, ’ ’ assented Sue. ‘ ‘ But 
I like her just the same.” 

“She has a mind like a man,” went on May. 
“My, wait until you are in one of her classes, 
and then if you aren’t enthusiastic it is be- 
cause you can’t appreciate a good teacher. It 
is wonderful to hear her weigh and balance 
and decide a question. But it is always disci- 
pline with a large D, and she never errs on the 
side of mercy, let me tell you. The best way 
to get on with her 4s never to let her strike 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 221 

a first discordant note in yon, then yon are 
safe to have your melody at Hope Hall sweep 
on in sweetest harmony ! ’ ’ ’ chuckled May, mak- 
ing quotation marks on both sides of her bloom- 
ing face by snapping her fingers. ‘ ‘ Don’t 
think for a moment I was smart enough to get 
up that delicious epigram, that’s a bit from 
Anne Demuth, who was graduated last year. 
Poor Anne, her melody did any thing but sweep, 
but she was great fun, and didn’t the feathers 
fly when she and Miss Hope met in the arena. 
But now you are going to meet the real mother 
of Hope Hall. Miss Sargent is charming, good 
and dear, and everybody loves her. ’ ’ 

The whole day came out beautifully, Sue told 
Virginia that night as she stood brushing 
her curls before her mirror. Miss Sargent had 
been very kind, and by a little extra study Sue 
would be able to enter the same classes with 
Virginia, except that while Virginia had third 
year French Sue was just beginning. Then 
Miss Gribbles’ table was the merriest in the 
dining-room and the girls were so friendly and 
nice. 

“I just love that Enid Fenno at our table. 
Don’t you, Virginia?” 

“You see, Sue, I never get acquainted as 
quickly as you do,” yawned Virginia. “Ugh, 


222 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


but I am sleepy. I did like May Price 
though and that little Miss Crum. Didn’t 
you ! ’ ’ 

4 4 That Crum girl! Oh, Virginia, I just de- 
tested her.” 

“Now, Sue, you know you don’t mean that. 
Did you notice her lovely eyes, and she said 
such kind things of every one.” 

“So ho, Missy, I caught you that time. The 
reason you didn’t feel acquainted with Enid 
is because she is such a dandy gossip, but she 
is awfully funny and she can talk Irish as if 
she came from Cork. Did you notice the empty 
chair at Miss Decker’s table right behind me!” 

“Yes, I did, and Miss Crum said it was for 
Miss Dempcy of Kentucky.” 

“And oh Virginia, Enid says she is a regu- 
lar cracker- jack of a girl. Her name is Nancy 
Jane Dempcy and all the girls call her Nancy 
Jancy Dempcy. Is n’t that fun! And they say 
she is so awfully brilliant at her lessons that 
Miss Hope puts up with her, though she gives 
her particular fits once a week and does not 
trust her at all. Oh, it has been a lovely day, but, 
oh . . - . and oh, ... I would . . . 

like . . . to . . . see . . . Masie 

and . . . little . . . Ben.” And Sue’s 

voice trailed away in a half sob. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


223 


“Poor old Sue,” comforted Virginia, as she 
turned out the gas and raised the window shade. 
4 ‘ See, dear, there is the same old moon that is 
shining just as kindly on Cherryf air . 9 9 

“The same God is caring for us just as lov- 
ingly too,” sighed Sue, “I must not forget 
that.” And the gentle moon smiled down be- 
nignly on the two little white gowned figures 
that knelt side by side. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 

W HAT is she like?” asked Nan, who 
had just gotten herself into her be- 
dragoned kimona, tucked her feet into Turkish 
slippers, stuck a fez a-top her saucy head and, 
was now perched on her biggest trunk, where 
she sat thumping her heels against it to the 
tune of Dixie. She had not been in the Hall 
an hour, but her faithful henchmaids had gath- 
ered from the uttermost parts to her room, and 
swarmed over the floor, and bed and window 
seat. 

“Do stop that devil’s tattoo, Nan, if you 
don’t want Mrs. Rood rushing in here,” cried 
Enid Fenno, tossing a cushion with such uner- 
ring aim that Nancy had to duck dangerously 
to one side. “Well, I should say that Number 
21 is out of the question. Virginia Clayton, 
judging from the few words she has deigned 
to address to your humble servant, is rich, re- 
fined and awfully affected by the rarified air of 
the cultured East. She shows it in the tilt of 
224 


THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 225 


her head, the set of her skirts, and the height 
of her heels, to say nothing of her not having 
an R to bless herself. I can tell yon, right 
here, she’ll have no nse for the Screech Owls. 
So just count her out.” 

“Umph, don’t want her!” sniffed Nan con- 
temptuously. “The Mourning Doves can have 
her, and welcome. But how about her room- 
mate?” 

Nancy Jane Dempcy was hardly what you 
would expect from her quaint old-fashioned 
name, for from the tassel of her fez to the 
tips of the turned-up toes of her slippers she 
was a bundle of mischief and vivacity. Miss 
Hope said openly that she had given her more 
trouble than any girl she had ever had in the 
Hall, but then, too, she was perhaps the most 
brilliant mentally and the most vividly alive. 
She was absolutely fearless, with little idea of 
honor, except that one should rather die than 
tell upon a fellow sinner, and she was never 
happy except when engaged in some mad prank. 
Being the only child of one of the trustees of 
the school, petted, indulged and worshiped for 
her prettiness, her brilliancy, and her mad 
spirits it was perhaps no wonder that the girls 
inclined toward insubordination flocked around 
her, for with Nancy’s wits at work upon a plot 


226 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


it was apt to be carried through, and with her 
courage to defend, one was apt to escape one’s 
just punishment. Beside, there was always 
something going on where Nan was; few dull 
moments were passed in her society and her 
room was always overflowing with girls. 

Nan was founder and president of a musical, 
literary and social club called the Screech Owls, 
and, as she expressed it, every man’s hand was 
against it and its hand against every man. 
The initiation of the Owls was made as blood 
curdling as Nan’s vivid imagination could con- 
jure and the constitution consisted of but one 
article: ‘ 4 Torture and death ere aught shall 
be divulged against any Owl. ’ ’ 

Much to the girls’ astonishment Miss Hope 
had made no objection to the forming of this 
club; in fact, she had expressed her entire ap- 
probation of it. Perhaps their astonishment 
would have given place to chagrin had they 
known her reason. 

“It is a very good thing, indeed,” she had 
remarked to Mrs. Rood. “In this way we shall 
find at the beginning of the term just who 
will fight under Nancy’s banner. If the foolish 
things only knew it, it is a natural division of 
the goats from the sheep, and their taking mat- 
ters into their own hands only simplifies the 


THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 227 


question and makes my work that much easier. 
My Mourning Doves are safe, my Screech Owls 
will bear watching. Indeed, Mrs. Rood, I am 
very much obliged to Nancy for her really bril- 
liant idea.” 

At the year’s beginning the new girls were at 
once talked over by both clubs and decided 
upon, although this was unnecessary as the 
girls really found their places by natural gravi- 
tation. 

The ‘ ‘ Mourning Doves 9 9 had been renamed by 
the Screech Owls, their euphonious choice of 
“Utilian” being laughed to scorn by the imper- 
tinent Owls and for some unknown reason the 
derisive nickname had been accepted by the 
girls themselves. It is needless to say that all 
the best students were among the Doves, and 
it was daring rather than scholarship, with the 
exception of Nancy, that kept the Screech Owls 
up to the passing mark. 

Nan always made a point of getting back to 
Hope Hall at the last possible moment, feel- 
ing her advent made more of splash in the pool 
than if she arrived quietly with the rest. She 
was fully a week late and the classes had settled 
down to their accustomed work. But the news 
of her return had flown as if by magic from 
room to room, from class to class, and at the 


228 FEOM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


first tap of the noon rest bell the girls went 
flying down the hall to Number 14 to greet 
their chief. 

Sue had stood at her door and looked a bit 
wistfully after Enid Fenno who had whispered 
hurriedly as she passed: 

“Nan’s back. Now look out for gay old 
times,” and then had sped away, following the 
trail of a dozen other laughing girls, who were 
scuttling along for “dear life,” as if their 
leader might disappear if not promptly visited 
by her worshipers. 

“My,” thought Sue with a sigh, “it must be 
lovely to be the leader of a lot of girls like 
that. ’ ’ 

And so now the gay queen of the Screech 
Owls sat upon her throne gathering information 
about her possible future subjects. 

“Sue Roberts, she spells herself S-I-O-U-X, 
is all that that spelling would indicate,” ex- 
plained Enid, leaning her head comfortably 
against Maze Wood’s knee. Enid had a certain 
shrewd ability in reading character that made 
her of immense use to Nancy. “Not that Sue 
is an Indian,” went on Enid, “but she is the 
sort of girl who would be up to tricks of that 
sort. She is original, slangy and a tomboy. 
She sings with what Miss Gribble calls 



















































































/< • 




























- 






























































































■ 

' 



























’ 













. 

. 


















. 











. 







■ 




















































THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 231 


‘quality’ — whatever that means — it’s one of 
those rich, velvety contraltos that makes a lump 
come in your throat, hut that you wish would 
keep right on doing it, so she would do the Owls 
a lot of good in our musicals this year. She is 
pretty, with a sort of dashy style ; poor, I should 
judge, though she has an elegant tepee fixed up 
in her room and a lot of fine Indian things. 
She is a pretty fair student, talks a lot, and is 
as wild as a hawk in one way, but I don’t think 
she will ever make a Screech Owl. ’ ’ 

Immediately a shriek of protest went up from 
the other girls. Sue Roberts not make a 
Screech Owl! Why, from the very first day 
when she had slid down the banisters, danced 
a war dance ini the gym. and dubbed Miss 
Thaw, the new teacher, a ‘Jerry Sneak,’ the 
Owls had marked her for their own, and they had 
just been waiting to hear Enid give Sue’s chief 
characteristics that Nan might know what an 
exceptional Owl Jiad been awaiting her ar- 
rival, and now Enid Fenno by one fell swoop 
had settled the matter, for Enid’s opinion al- 
ways went a great way with Nan. 

“Why, Nan!” Maze Wood had fairly to 
scream to make herself heard over the 
clatter of protests, threats, denouncements and 
explanations that were taking place, “Sue 


232 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Roberts is one of the jolliest, funniest girls 
you ever saw. She isn’t afraid of any- 
body or anything, and she told Ray Hurst 
that if Martha Cutting, another new girl 
who came from the same town, is going to 
be a dove she’d rather be a buzzard than be 
one. Miss Cutting is a sure enough Dove, she 
is thick as hops with Miss Thaw already, one 
of those girls who always has an arm around 
a teacher, a silky-pretty-low-voiced-sweet- 
smiler sort of a girl, awfully stuck on herself 
and her attainments. So Sue will have to be- 
long to us, besides every one of us has invited 
her.” 

Nan frowned at this, she felt the girls had 
taken a good deal upon themselves as she never 
allowed them to forget she was president, or she 
the “ Tommy Owl” and they the “Owlets,” as 
Enid grumbled sometimes. Beside, she felt 
from what the girls said she would prefer to 
see Sue Roberts herself before she was ad- 
mitted, and even if Enid had not pronounced 
against her, she knew that already Sue had 
strongly attracted them and there was no room 
among the Owls for two leaders. She would 
wait and see, but in the meantime it would be 
as well to find out every thing possible. 

‘ ‘ Do hush up ! ” she cried, hammering on the 


THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 233 


lid of her trunk with her cut glass inkstand. 
i ‘ Halt ! Clear the decks ! Sub rosa ! Or any old 
thing ! I never can think of any parliamentary 
language when I want it! What do you say, 
Enid, when you want people to shut up while 
you talk yourself ? ’ ’ 

“Come to order,’ ’ laughed Enid. “But you 
will have to have something better than that 
inkstand as a gavel. Here I’ll hammer on this 
radiator with the shoe brush.” 

So by dint of noise and command the girls 
were at last quiet enough to hear all Enid had 
to say. 

“Well,” she went on calmly, “I did n’t ex- 
pect to bring such a hornet’s nest about my 
ears by my simple remarks, but I think that 
very fact proves my point. In a club like this 
you can have only one real leader, or the first 
you know there will be Heelings’ then ‘sides,’ 
and by and by a regular breaking of the ranks 
and a stampede. ‘In union there is strength’ 
ought to be our motto, and if we get to quar- 
reling we are going to get caught before the 
term is out — Miss Hope, always has her eye on 
us. Sue Roberts is a born leader and so is 
Nan. You just let her go among the Doves 
and if the feathers are n’t flying before a week 
I’ll treat you all to fudge. I don’t think Helen 


234 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


is pining to have Sue in her club either; for 
she will be turned down and Sue elected presi- 
dent inside a month. Not that Sue is pushing, 
nor anxious, nor anything of that sort, but she’s 
bound to rise, like a cork. Beside she has prin- 
ciples, with the whole word in capitals. She 
may, and will, break rules, but she will choose 
her rule ; while she would be loyal to the death 
she might get stubborn at the most important 
moment ; in other words, as I heard her express 
herself to Miss Sargent about her geometry, 
she is ‘hot stuff’ and we’d better let her alone.” 

“Enid always thinks she is so smart!” 
grumbled Maze, “but I’d like to know what 
poor Sue will do if she won’t be a Dove and 
can’t be an Owl?” 

Enid shrugged her shoulders in a manner she 
considered very French. 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she said, “ but I 
don’t think it would have made any difference 
if we invited her, she would n’t join us anyway. 
She thinks she would now, but Virginia Clayton 
has a lot of influence over her. I never saw 
better friends, and Virginia don’t believe in us. 
That’s all.” 

So it was settled, after much discussion, that 
the three girls from Monroe were not to be 
called to the high estate of Screech Owls. 


THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 235 


Enid Fenno was mistaken about the Doves, 
for Sue received in the same house mail with 
Virginia and Martha a pretty little invitation 
to join the “Utilian . . . the most noted 
literary, musical and social club in Hope Hall. ’ ’ 
But, to the Doves’ astonishment, Martha alone 
accepted, and then came the dumfounding news 
that Hope Hall was to have a new club. 

Just before study hours one Friday morning 
Sue was seen carrying a stepladder along the 
halls. She had been so hilarious and excited at 
breakfast that even lenient Miss Gribble had 
had to reprove her, and Miss Hope’s black eyes 
had flashed several threatening glances in her 
direction. Quite a train of little girls tagged 
after her as she bore the ladder away, for like 
Betty and Peggy they had already recognized 
Sue’s unexpectedness. They worshipped her 
for stopping to play with them now and then, 
while Nan Dempcy and the Owls declared all 
small girls tattle-tales, and banished them from 
their presence, and Helen Campbell and her 
set were too superior usually to be bothered 
by little folks, so Sue was fast becoming their 
idol. 

“What are you going to do, Miss Roberts?” 
little Dolly Bates inquired, eagerly running 
along by Sue’s side. “Shall I help you? Our 


236 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


school doesn’t begin ’til nine, you know.” 

“You help, you lady bird!” laughed Sue. 
“Why you could n’t lift a rose leaf; but, never 
mind, you may lift a weeny-teeny bit if it will 
make you any happier. Here comes Virginia; 
she will help.” 

With Virginia’s aid the ladder was soon 
carried upstairs and into 21, and then to the 
disappointment of the little girls the door was 
closed and they were no wiser than they were 
before. Still hoping to find out something of 
Sue’s plans they hung about the hall, skipping 
about on their tiptoes in their frantic desire to 
know what was going to happen next. Some 
of the restless ones soon gave up, but Dolly 
and her roommate, Faith Rankin, perched 
themselves on a radiator just opposite Sue’s 
door and were soon rewarded for their pa- 
tience. 

On each door at Hope Hall just above the 
number was a small pane of frosted 
glass through which the teachers and monitors 
were able to discover if the lights were out 
promptly at ten. Upon most of these panes, 
names, dates and various sentiments had 
been scratched, but, fortunately for Sue’s 
purpose, that of 21 was unmarred, and 
now, to the great delight of the little watch- 


THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 237 


ers, Sue, seated upon the stepladder inside the 
room, was cutting through the frosting — 
slowly, for she was- forced to write backward — 
the astonishing legend, ‘ 6 The Minnehaha Club, ’ ’ 
while beneath in smaller letters on one side 
was “Pale Face,” and on the other “Sioux, 
heap big Injun !” 

Here was news indeed ! Away flew the little 
girls to carry it, knowing by past experience 
that even primary pupils are welcomed by the 
big girls if they bear unexpected tidings. 

To both Helen Campbell and Nancy Dempcy 
was this news most unwelcome. Neither leader 
cared for another rival and moreover a rival 
with the fascinations possessed by Sue. Helen, 
who was a dear girl, and much loved by the 
Doves, could not help feeling that Sue would 
offer far more original and interesting affairs 
than she could hope to, and Nan knew already 
that many of the more timid Owls would feel 
safer under Sue ’s banner than under hers ; for 
after three weeks most of the girls knew that, in 
spite of Sue’s rollicking and slang, Enid had 
been right, Sue had principles, and strong ones. 

“Who will join?” was upon everybody’s 
lips. “What will Miss Hope say?” But Miss 
Hope fairly shook with laughter when Miss 
Thaw told her. 

U 


238 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


‘ ‘ Another weeding out, ’ ’ she said. 4 4 How the 
dear things help me with their follies ! I really 
dreaded Sue’s fascinations and abundant en- 
ergy. I did not at all want her with Nancy, 
and now see, she has placed herself exactly un- 
der my microscope. Dear me, if I had planned 
it I could hardly have invented a better way, 
and I believe I could write a list of the girls 
who will flock around her — Helen’s gayest ones, 
and Nan’s best ones. It is only Virginia Clay- 
ton who does not fit, and she will stay for love 
of Sue. Well, well, Miss Thaw, this is very 
good news! Very good news, indeed!” 

But Miss Thaw had not brought it for good 
news, and she did not at all approve of her 
chief’s way of accepting it. 

Miss Vashti Edna Thaw had never taught in 
a girl’s school before, and she was considered 
a very strict disciplinarian. Her long, narrow 
face, her sharp nose, her small blue eyes set 
closely together, her jerky movements and shrill 
voice were not prepossessing, and yet there was 
not a girl in her classes who did not grow en- 
thusiastic about her as a teacher. 

“Call her Thaw!” groaned Nan Dempcy, 
after the first day. “Why, she’s a regular 
frost ! The very minute she set those little blue 


THE OWLS AND THE DOVES 239 


eyes on me, I felt the Screech Owls had better 
hoot pretty low while she’s around; but all the 
same, I never had such a teacher, not even ex- 
cepting Miss Hope. Why, Enid, Annette Stone 
positively raised her head and took notice. She 
did, she did! I know it sounds like a dream, 
but, goodness me, a donkey would have listened. 
The way Miss Thaw translated that page of 
Virgil was something worth hearing. It left 
me perfectly breathless. Did n’t that dry-as- 
dust glow and sparkle? And did n’t one just 
ache to go and do likewise? As a teacher Vashti 
Edna is a bright, particular star; as a person 
she is impossible.” 

And this seemed to be the general verdict, 
for, with the exception of Miss Decker, whom 
she had known before, and Martha Cutting, she 
seemed to have no friends, even the other teach- 
ers finding her cold and severe. Of Nancy 
Dempcy and Sue Roberts, Miss Thaw had dis- 
approved from the first, and she said openly 
that if she were in Miss Hope’s place the Owls 
would not be tolerated for a moment, and now it 
seemed beyond belief that another club was to 
be allowed, whose purpose, in her eyes, was 
plainly mischief, and when she heard Miss 
Hope’s laughing approval, and understood that 


240 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


nothing was to be done to crash the Minne- 
hahas, she closed the door after her with what 
in a pupil she would have called most unlady- 
like force, and sailed down the hall with her 
lips set in a hard, straight line. 


CHAPTER XVI 


TROUBLE IN NUMBER 21 

A LTHOUGH Sue was unanimously elected 
chief of the ‘ 1 Hahas, ’ ’ as the Owls at once 
dubbed the members of the new club, it was 
really Virginia’s idea. 

Lessons had settled down to smooth running, 
practice hours were falling into regular lines, 
days were beginning to flow along as school 
days should, study hours in their place, recita- 
tions in theirs, rules in theirs, and fun spread 
in like jelly between layers of cake, but still 
Sue and Virginia were what Nancy called un- 
clubbed. It was n’t especially noticeable, as 
neither the Owls nor the Doves had had time 
for any open meetings, the first of the year is 
always such a busy time, but Sue had heard 
rumors of forbidden feasts, of fudge-making 
and chafing-dish messes that had set her all 
a-twitter to display her skill. 

Number 21 had many callers, for news of its 
unusualness had soon spread through Hope 
241 


242 


FEOM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Hall, and each girl had wished to see its beauties 
for herself. 

Sue and Virginia had thoroughly enjoyed 
making their room as homelike and artistic as 
possible. Together they had draped their bay 
window with the soft red silk Virginia had 
brought from Kinikinnick; they had tacked up 
the Indian prints, the bows and arrows, and 
papoose cases, thanking their lucky stars for 
the plain red wall paper that made such an ex- 
cellent background; spread the Navajo blanket 
over their divan and heaped it with red and 
russet pillows; hid their bed back of the dull 
red canvas screen, upon which Virginia had 
roughly drawn Hopi designs of Thunder-birds, 
Man-eagles, and flights of queer wild geese in 
gray-greens, indigo-blues and “warm browns.” 
There were the peace-pipes, the feather bonnets 
and the fringed leggins, that dangled from the 
picture railing with the bead bags, moccasins 
and the strings of wampum, and last and best, 
the picturesque tepee was set up in the corner, 
such an interesting tepee, with its brownness 
made gay by the swollen rain clouds, the yellow 
suns and blue thunder bolts the Indians had 
painted upon it. Within the charmed interior 
Virginia had set her pretty little tabouret, and 
the double-handled copper kettle, the red cups, 



THEY HAD TACKED UP THE INDIAN PRINTS. 



TROUBLE IN NUMBER 21 


245 


yellow cracker jar and dusky little green teapot, 
for, as Sue hastened to explain to their guests : 

“If Indians don’t have tea tables, they ought 
to, so we’ll go them one better.’ ’ 

Miss Gribble had been pleased as one of the 
girls over the picturesque prettiness of it all. 
Mrs. Rood and kind Miss Sargent had drunk a 
cup of tea with them, and even Miss Hope had 
stepped in for a moment to compliment them 
for their originality, and it was over all this 
pleasant kindness that Virginia and Sue had 
their first tiff, the little rift within the lute 
that might, if they were not careful, make all 
the music of their girlish friendship mute. 

Virginia was sitting at the table one evening, 
just after study hour bell, toiling away at her 
French translation, while Sue, curled up among 
the pillows on the divan, was supposed to be 
industriously conning her Latin verbs, when 
suddenly she gave such a heavy sigh that the 
divan fairly creaked under it. 

“Why, poor old Sue! What is the matter?” 
inquired Virginia, dropping her pen in dismay. 
“Are you homesick, or can’t you get your con- 
jugations?” 

“Homesick? Oh, I am always that. Would 
n’t I give my head to see the whole lot of them 
to-night! But that isn’t what’s the matter 


246 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


with Susie, and it is n’t verbs. The truth is, 
honey, I sighed, as Ben would say, ‘a-purpose.* 
I wanted to talk to you, and, you know, I prom- 
ised not to speak. Gracious, I’m glad I don’t 
have to sigh like that often ! ’ ’ 

“0 Sue, won’t it keep?” pleaded Virginia, 
looking longingly at her Fontaine. ‘ ‘ This fable 
is so interesting, and Miss Hope is coming to- 
morrow to recitation, and I do want to make a 
good translation.” 

“It won’t take a minute, really, Virginia,” 
assured Sue, drawing her feet up under her 
comfortably. “It’s about a club. Enid Fenno 
says Nancy Jancy Dempcy has decided that she 
don’t care to have us as Owls, which is as well, 
since we would neither of us be caught being 
one.” 

“No, I suppose not, as they are always break- 
ing rules, and I suppose their not wanting us is 
really a compliment, but Miss Gribble says 
some of their entertainments are splendid.” 

“That is all right, but I don’t want any 
Dempcy in mine. I said ‘tommy rot’ before 
Nan the other day, and she pretended she 
could n’t understand me, and, after she had 
gotten me to repeat it two or three times, she 
said she did n’t speak the language and asked 
if it was dead; of course, the girls almost died 


TROUBLE IN NUMBER 21 


247 


laughing, you know they just stand around wait- 
ing for her to speak, but I told her I guessed 
she had n’t read her Kipling to very good pur- 
pose.’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What did she say to that ? ’ ’ 

“That if I had n’t brought anything better 
away from my Kipling than that she would ad- 
vise another course — sassy thing ! 9 9 

“Well, it’s true, Sue, please don’t feel hurt,” 
and Virginia picked up her pen, “but if one 
brings away only the slang and uncouthness 
from a book it is better not read.” 

Sue frowned for an instant, and then shook 
her head, much as Toddlekins used to when he 
wished to get rid of a fly. She did n’t intend 
to quarrel with Virginia, so she would not reply 
to any dangerous remark like that. 

“Well, anyhow,” she said at last, just 
as Virginia had found her place in the dic- 
tionary. “I think you might talk it over with 
me.” 

“All right,” and Virginia, submissively put- 
ting the stopper in her ink bottle, pushed back 
her chair and folded her hands meekly in her 
lap. 

“Oh, shucks!” snapped Sue, burrowing her 
head in the cushions, “I don’t care to talk to a 
miserable martyr. ’ ’ 


248 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“It seems to me, Sue, you are rather hard to 
please Virginia’s tone had unmistakably 
cooled. “If you prefer I can go back to my 
work. ’ ’ 

“There, there, lambie, don’t get huffy,” 
laughed Sue, appearing from the cushion’s 
depth, disheveled and repentant, “ I ’m a regular 
patch to-night, but the truth is, I ’m boiling over 
at Martha Cutting. She’s a regular sneak cat, 
and in spite of promises to Masie and vows to 
you, I can’t get on with her.” 

“Why, I think she seems very nice to you 
now, Sue. She said our room was so pretty, 
and told you what Miss Gribble said of your 
voice, and was just as pleasant as any girl that 
called. ’ ’ 

“Yes, and ran right off to Enid and said she 
would as soon live in a curiosity shop, and when 
Enid said she thought it very artistic in color- 
ing, Martha said: ‘Oh, that is Virginia; Sue 
Roberts has n’t any more taste than a savage.’ 
And afterward she said my voice sounded like 
a chicken-hawk’s.” 

“Enid Fenno was very unkind to repeat it to 
you. I would let that girl alone, if I were you, 
Sue.” 

“I like her,” said Sue, her chin turning up 


TROUBLE IN NUMBER 21 249 


obstinately. “Your true friends always tell 
you all the mean things they hear about you, so 
you can protect yourself. ’ ’ 

“Nonsense, Sue!” protested Virginia. 
“Then why did n’t you tell me Nancy Dempcy 
said I was a stuck-up Yankee? You heard it, 
did n’t you?” 

“Why, who told you, Virginia?” cried Sue, 
sitting up in dismay. “I hoped you would n’t 
hear that, I was afraid it would hurt you.” 

“Foolish old Sue,” laughed Virginia, “So 
you are n’t my true friend. Oh, Enid Fenno 
told me that, just as she tells all the other bits 
of disagreeable news she can gather. I did not 
care, for I knew if Nan could say that, she sim- 
ply did n’t know me.” 

“My me, what kind of girls are there here, 
anyway?” sighed Sue. “Nan and Enid and 
Martha — ” 

“Girls are the same, I suppose, all the world 
over. I am sure most of the girls here are 
lovely, and we don’t need to rush into any new 
friendships. Let’s wait a bit and see. But 
please, Sue, do hurry and say what you want to 
about the club, the evening is going and I have 
n’t two lines translated.” 

“Well, then, I won’t be a Dove and I can’t 
be an Owl, and that’s all!” 


250 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


‘ ‘ Then there is only one thing to do — start a 
club for yourself !” 

4 4 What — did — y ou — say ? ’ ’ shrieked Sue, 
springing to the floor. 

‘ 4 Get up a club yourself, ’ ’ repeated Virginia, 
with a careless laugh. “Is that so very dread- 
ful of me? It might be an Indian club, you 
know. ’ ’ 

Sue had not stopped to listen, but was per- 
forming her own particular war dance, silently, 
but with such vigor that her hair was tumbling 
to her shoulders before she dropped in a breath- 
less heap at Virginia’s feet. 

“You precious old darling!” she panted. 
“It’s the finest idea going, and I never even 
thought of it. An Indian club, of course, with 
sun dances, buffalo hunts and scalping parties. 
Oh, joy be ! and I named it while I danced — it’s 
‘The Minnehaha.’ ” 

“You ridiculous Sue,” protested poor Vir- 
ginia, who had been joking all the time. “I 
was only in fun. Why, we have n’t time for 
it, and beside, where would you get your mem- 
bers ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, they would come fast enough. We 
won’t ask a soul, but, you see, they will come. 
I will be president, no, chief, that sounds better, 
because I can whoop ’em up better than you 


TROUBLE IN NUMBER 21 251 


can, Virginia ; but you shall be chief squaw, or 
medicine man, or any old thing you want to.” 

“But, Sue, Miss Hope! You will have to 
ask her permission.” 

“Not by a good deal! I’ll spring it on her, 
and then if I get called down — ” 

“Sue, I never heard such slang as you are 
using; I think you would better start an anti- 
slang league.” 

“Oh, dear, I always use slang when I get ex- 
cited. Well, never mind, what I meant to say 
was, that I shall establish the club without ask- 
ing permission of our esteemed principal, and 
then, if she makes any serious objection, we can 
immediately desist from operations. Does that 
suit your ladyship?” 

Virginia laughed, for really you can not very 
well talk of dignity to a girl who is kneeling at 
your feet, her face alight with good fellowship 
and fun, at least, not very well, if you are a girl 
yourself, with your heart hippity-hopping to the 
pipes o’ Pan, as every girl’s should. 

“But, Sue — ” then- Virginia hesitated and 
sighed, “Oh, dear!” 

“Out with it, my dearest squaw. We are 
smoking our peace-pipes in council to-night, and 
the war paint is all washed off, so don’t be 
afraid.” 


252 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


4 ‘Well, I suspect you will call me a regular 
spoil-sport, Sue, but I’m not going to disobey 
any of the rules, and I promised your father 
and mother to try to take care of you. I 
know that most of the girls break the study 
hour rule, and think it is great fun, but — ” 

“ Father said, Virginia Clayton, that if I at- 
tended to my lessons I was to have the very best 
time I could, and Miss Sargent said to-day she 
was very much pleased with my work. I’ve 
really flunked only once this week, and that was 
in history, and I don’t care a penny if I did n’t 
know who Guy Fawkes was, for he was n’t in 
the lesson, and I guess he was n’t any great 
shakes, anyway. I am not going to disobey 
except about not cooking in the room and not 
going in the halls after eight and study hours, 
and that nonsense. Those rules were just made 
to be broken, May Price says, and she’s a 
monitor.” 

“Well, I am not going to,” said Virginia, in 
what seemed to Sue a most self-righteous tone. 
“Miss Gribble and Miss Sargent have been so 
kind to us. Why, just think, even Mrs. Rood 
and Miss Hope have been here to see our room, 
and I think it would be a shame to abuse their 
confidence. If you really mean to have a club, 
and we may, I think it will be great fun, but I ’m 


TROUBLE IN NUMBER 21 253 


going to be good. You know as well as I do, 
Sue, that if it was n’t for study hours we never 
would get time for our lessons, for our room 
would run over with girls.” 

“What of it?” inquired Sue, tauntingly, for 
she was nettled by what she considered Vir- 
ginia’s superior manner. “Are we going to 
settle down to be bumps on a log? Why, I have 
been stewing up in this room every morning for 
two weeks, and going to bed at half past nine, 
when if I was at Cherryfair I’d be flying all 
over the place and up ’til eleven, and I guess 
father and Masie know just as well what’s good 
for girls as an old maid like Miss Hope. All 
the other girls are having jolly times, while we 
are namby-pamby ing around here.” 

“Not all, Sue. You know very well Helen, 
Alice, Winifred and that set of girls have not, 
nor Martha Cutting — ” 

“Martha Cutting!” cried Sue witheringly. 
‘ ‘ I should think you would be ashamed to men- 
tion that cat in my presence. Holding her up 
to me for a pattern !” 

“I am not !” replied Virginia, her head going 
up in the air and her lips set in a straight line. 
“You have interrupted my study hour — ” 
“Well, I shan’t any longer,” stormed Sue, 
beginning to unbutton her shoes. “You are 


254 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


getting too molly-colly for any good use, Vir- 
ginia. I’m going out for a lark.” 

Virginia sat perfectly still, a red spot glowing 
on either cheek, her hands clenched tightly in 
her lap, determined that the tears that were 
stinging her eyes should not escape and betray 
her. At home she would have sailed in high 
dudgeon from the room ; here there was nothing 
to do but sit silent, biting her lips to keep back 
the pain. 

She watched Sue get herself into her dark 
wrapper, and slip on a pair of moccasins that 
her steps might be noiseless, and yet in her mind 
she was going over and over her talk with Mrs. 
Roberts upon that last Sunday night. “ Vir- 
ginia,” she had said, and Virginia remembered 
the little tremble in the sweet voice, “ Virginia, 
we are going to trust Sue in your hands. She 
has been such an unselfish daughter, such a 
loving, generous sister, that we have overlooked 
her faults as strangers will not, and I fear we 
have cheated her out of her share of rightful 
discipline. She is so impulsive and thoughtless, 
where you are calm and controlled, and she 
loves you so dearly she will be led by you. And, 
I know, too, you will always try to lead her 
toward the right. ’ ’ Then Virginia remembered 


TROUBLE IN NUMBER 21 


255 


the tender kiss with which her promise had been 
sealed. She thought, too, of Mr. Roberts ’s fond 
4 'God bless both my little girls and have them 
in His keeping,’ ’ upon that last morning. It 
was so hard for Virginia — it was never easy for 
her to ask forgiveness, and Sue was in the 
wrong, and — yet, and — yet — 

"0 Sue,” she said, and then the tears welled 
over, "0 Sue, please, please don’t go. Forgive 
me for being cross, but your dear father and 
mother — ” 

In a moment Sue’s arms were around her, 
Sue’s cheek pressed against hers. 

"There, there,” she crooned, as if she were 
talking to a baby. "Susie was an old sinner, 
it was n ’t your fault at all. There, there, honey, 
don’t waste a tear over bad me. I’ll be good, 
indeed I will, honey. I just thought you were 
showing off a little, and it made me mad. Here 
we are, all made up, don’t cry, don’t you cry 
one more tear.” 

In ten minutes impetuous, easy-going Sue was 
cuddled down with her head in Virginia’s lap, 
planning the new club, bubbling over with fun, 
laughing, talking as if nothing had happened. 
Virginia tried with all her might to enter into 
all the happy scheming and to hide the deep 

15 


256 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


hurt in her heart, but long after Sue was fast 
asleep she lay in her little white bed with wide 
open eyes, and when at last she slipped away 
into dreamland the long black lashes were wet 
against her cheek. 


CHAPTER XVII 


sue’s rebellion 

M ISS HOPE was quite right. It was the 
quietest of the Owls and the gayest of 
the Doves that flocked to the Minnehahas, and 
jolly times were the order of the day in Number 
21 . 

So delightful were their regular meetings, 
and lavish the hospitality — for Virginia’s purse 
was always open, and Sue, for her share, an 
adept at making something out of nothing — and 
so much fun was crowded into legitimate hours 
and pleasures, that as yet there had been no 
temptation to break rules. 

Much to the astonishment of Miss Thaw, Sue 
inspired by the delights of companionship, and 
the open admiration of the girls, worked like 
mad during study periods, and was fast making 
a place for herself among the leaders of her 
class. 

Miss Gribble was so delighted with Sue’s 
progress in singing that she put her upon the 
program for the first pupil’s recital, much to 
257 


258 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Martha Cutting's chagrin, for Martha's faulty 
tone work was giving her some hours of drudg- 
ery she did not at all relish, and in spite of 
Miss Gribble's assurance that for the dull work 
now she would make the swifter progress later 
in the year, she resented the decision as a per- 
sonal injustice. Her vanity kept her from 
hearing the difference between the tight, throaty 
tones that were due in a measure to her own 
self-consciousness and the velvety, bird-like 
notes of enthusiastic, unaffected Sue. 

To Sue, Martha's sulkiness over her success 
was not only selfish, but foolish, for, like most 
girls, her own voice being contralto, she yearned 
for a high soprano, and the ease with which 
Martha reached a high note — even if it was 
pinched — seemed the one thing desirable. Still 
she was justly proud that she was the only one 
chosen for the recital among the new girls, and 
wrote happy letters home of Miss Gribble's 
praise and of her own joy in the work. Indeed, 
life in 21 was so delightful that the days tripped 
over each other’s heels, and it was the middle of 
December before a sudden halt was called, and 
Sue found she was far from the “perfectly 
changed girl" of which she had written Masie. 

One morning at breakfast Miss Hope made 
an announcement that fell like lightning out of 


SHE’S REBELLION 


259 


a clear sky; this was, that after careful con- 
sideration, the faculty had decided no girl, with 
the exception of those upon the list that could 
be seen on the office desk, was to be allowed to 
leave the grounds unaccompanied by a chaperon. 

The girls were fairly aghast, for one of their 
most cherished privileges was that of going 
alone, or with three or four girls, into the vil- 
lage on little shopping excursions, and just why 
this rule should fall upon their innocent heads 
at this time, when Christmas was nearing and 
frequent errands were necessary, they could not 
understand. 

It was an excited bevy of girls who crowded 
about the list upon the office desk, though there 
were three to whom the reason of the new rule 
was no secret, and who had stolen away to 
Number 14 to talk it over and discover how they 
could best evade it. 

“If we had been caught by anybody except 
Thaw,” groaned Nan to Enid and Maze, “this 
would have blown over, even Miss Hope would 
have gotten over it in time. Is n’t it madden- 
ing to think that she, of all persons, should 
catch us ! Of course, she rushed home to Miss 
Hope and made her believe the whole school 
was in it. You should have heard Miss Hope 
talk to me after you two girls were excused! 


260 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


I can’t come back next year, that’s sure. If 
I had n’t been such a hardened sinner perhaps 
I should have cried, for one can’t help liking 
Prexy, she’s so straight. I wonder who will be 
on that list?” 

Sue’s name was n’t on the list, she saw that 
at a glance, but when a second showed her not 
only Virginia, but Martha Cutting among the 
favored few, her blood boiled and she stormed 
up the stairs in spite of Miss Sargent’s 4 ‘ gently, 
Sue,” and the soothing touch of the hand upon 
her arm as she flew by. 

Miss Sargent stood for a moment looking 
sorrowfully after the flying figure. She had 
not approved of the new rule, nor did Miss 
Gribble, but Miss Thaw’s strong will was having 
a great deal of effect upon Miss Hope as the 
weeks went by. It was hard to mistrust the 
judgment of a woman who was such a remark- 
able teacher, and since the principal saw wild 
girls, stupid girls, lazy girls come under the 
spell of her teaching and knew that never before 
had such monthly standings graced the report 
cards of Hope Hall, she felt Miss Thaw de- 
served some part in the management of the 
school. 

“It is horrid,” Sue raged to Virginia, after 
class. “I have n’t done a single thing, and 


SUE’S KEBELLION 


261 


here I am disgraced and classed with Nan 
Dempcy and that set. I tell yon, I’m dangerous 
if they don’t trust me. Father and Masie 
never treated me like that. I’ll show that old 
Thaw! I will never go out of this house one 
step with her. You see if I do!” 

“I’m so sorry,” began Virginia. “But I 
can’t help it, Sue — ” 

“I don’t think you are very anxious to help 
it,” snapped Sue. “You can be with Martha 
all you want now, you are always with her lately, 
anyway. ’ ’ 

“Why, it is because we have French in the 
same class, and the same hour in Latin. You 
don’t think, Sue . . .” 

‘ ‘ That you wish you had Martha Cutting for 
a room-mate? Yes, I do. Enid Fenno said 
she heard you say to Martha one day that my 
noise and clatter made your head ache — ” 

“And you believed it?” demanded Virginia, 
standing very straight and dignified. 

But at this moment there was a quick knock 
at the door and before either girl could answer 
it the door opened and Emma Wills put her 
head in. 

“Come on, Sue, we’ve got to go for our walk 
now, and Miss Thaw is to chaperon us.” 

“Well, she won’t chaperon me, by a jugful!” 


262 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


cried Sue, jumping up excitedly, and in spite of 
Virginia’s cry of entreaty she dashed out and 
up the stairway to the room of little Dolly Bates, 
who set up a shout of glee at sight of her. 

“0 Sue, did you come to tell us a story V 9 she 
cried, for Sue was in the habit of entertaining 
the little girls with tales of the good times at 
Cherryfair. 

“Yes, if you hurry up, Dolly,” replied Sue, 
flinging herself down in a low chair by the win- 
dow and holding out her arms. “Come quick, 
chickabiddy ! 9 9 

It was upon this peaceful scene Miss Vashti 
Thaw looked some minutes later. Dolly was 
cuddled up in Sue’s lap, while little Faith Ran- 
kin and Grace Miller sat at her feet, rapt in 
the story of Biddy O’Harah, the buff Cochin 
hen. But Miss Thaw was not in the least im- 
pressed by the sweet domesticity of the pretty 
picture, nor by Sue’s absorption in the tale she 
was telling. The flush on her cheeks, the nerv- 
ous tilt of her rocking-chair proclaimed, in spite 
of the calm flow of her words, that she was en- 
tirely aware of Miss Thaw’s presence. 

“Miss Roberts, we are waiting for you,” 
broke in Miss Thaw’s icy voice. “Oblige me 
by coming at once.” 


SUE’S REBELLION 


263 


But Sue rocked on, only pausing long enough 
to say, in a high, shaking tone : 

“I don’t care for a walk to-day, Miss Thaw. 
I am not going. ’ ’ 

“Nonsense!” and Miss Thaw was plainly 
angry, her nose flattening and her eyes winking 
rapidly back of her glasses. “Put Dolly down 
instantly and come with me.” 

“Sit still, Dolly,” commanded Sue, “I do not 
care to walk to-day, Miss Thaw, so do not let 
me keep you.” 

“Do you quite understand what you are do- 
ing, Miss Roberts ? You know it is Miss Hope ’s 
express command that a walk of an hour be 
taken each day, and you also heard what she 
said this morning.” 

The little girls, frightened, begged in breath- 
less whispers, “go, please go, quick, Sue.” 
But Sue, far more angry than wise, rocked on 
as if there had been no indignant teacher stand- 
ing in the door. 

“I bid you come once more, Miss Roberts. 
One instant’s further delay and I shall report 
you,” the blue eyes were steely now. “You 
are the most ill-bred, insubordinate girl in the 
school. ’ ’ 

“And you are the most hateful teacher,” 


264 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


blazed Sue, her face growing white. 4 ‘ It is your 
fault my name is not on the list, for Miss Hope 
knows Pm trying to be good; but you . . .” 

Before she could say another word Miss Thaw 
had sailed majestically from the room. The 
little girls, frightened by the unwonted scene, 
clung trembling and teary to Sue, but now that 
her wrath had swept away, leaving her weak 
and shaken, she put them gently aside and went 
back to her own room. 

To Sue’s amazement nothing was said to her 
of her disobedience and impertinence that day 
nor the next. She felt ashamed enough of her 
revolt by this time, and except for that one 
word, “ill-bred,” would have willingly asked 
Miss Thaw’s pardon. 

The coldness between Virginia and herself 
hurt her more than she would have cared to 
confess. Since the night she ran away from 
Miss Thaw’s summons Virginia was distant and 
silent ; that Sue could believe Enid Fenno rather 
than her best friend had hurt Virginia deeply, 
and here, as always, she found it hard to for- 
give, and so went about sedate and still and 
left Sue to her own devices. So foolish and 
perverse had the two girls grown that they knelt 
to say their prayers upon opposite sides of the 
bed, and then crept in, cold and forlorn, to lie 


SUE’S REBELLION 


265 


as far apart as possible, and no saving sense of 
humor sent them into peals of laughter that 
would have washed every bit of ache from their 
silly little hearts. 

It was the third night after their quarrel, and 
they had sat studying in silence all the evening. 
Virginia had paid no heed to Sue’s frequent 
sighs, and Sue none to the wan face that leaned 
so wearily over the book, though she knew Vir- 
ginia was suffering from one of her nervous 
headaches, and it had always been her delight 
to get her a cushion and a footstool, to stroke 
the aching head and do the dozen little services 
that had made their friendship so sweet, but 
each was too proud and obstinate to speak first. 
The nine-forty-five bell had rung and the moni- 
tor was on duty when Virginia was surprised 
to see Sue deliberately get into her dark wrap- 
per and put on her moccasins, and then stand by 
the door as if listening. Virginia understood 
then that Sue was waiting for a signal and that 
she evidently intended going on some forbidden 
pleasure. 

Virginia closed her eyes and resolutely turned 
her face away from the tense, listening figure at 
the door. How her conscience nagged her, and 
how her better self rebelled! One kind word 
she knew would bring Sue back to her, repent- 


266 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


ant and ashamed, would turn her back into the 
tender, loving Sue, for whom her own heart 
was longing. But Martha Cutting had done 
her work well. Those walks to and from class, 
the little excursions to town, and the closer 
friendship since they were both on the favored 
list, had all been used by Martha and used to 
their uttermost. She was too wise and clever a 
girl to say anything openly against Sue, but 
drop by drop she distilled her poison into Vir- 
ginia’s heart, until, without realizing it, Virginia 
had withdrawn her sympathy. Her heart beat 
so she felt Sue must hear it, but she closed her 
lips tightly, while she felt rather than heard 
Sue give answer to the low pur-r-r-t at the door, 
and then knew she was alone. 

As Sue danced down the long hall she said to 
herself she had never been so happy in her 
life, at last she was free, free from that 
haughty little figure that had been saying all 
sorts of hard things to her by its silence. She 
was shocking Virginia, spiting Miss Thaw and 
Miss Hope, she was showing Nan Dempcy and 
Enid Fenno she was as brave and gay as they 
were, and she scampered away to where Maze 
Wood waited for her in the shadow of the linen 
closet, chuckling with joy — if a certain unde- 


SUE’S REBELLION 267 

fined pain lay deep in her heart she crushed it 
back. She was free! 

“You are a mighty lucky girl to get an in- 
vitation, Sue,” Maze assured her, as they crept 
along in the dark. ‘ ‘ Only a few of the Screech 
Owls are to be there, and you are the only girl 
outside. But Nancy Jancy said that a girl that 
was brave enough to face down old Thaw was a 
girl she wanted to honor. So, really, Sue, this 
feast is a tribute to you.” 

Sue tried to swagger, but she couldn’t help 
feeling a wave of shame sweep over her that 
she had been had enough to merit Nan Dempcy ’s 
praise. 

“We are going to have a high old time,” 
Maze went on. “Nan got a big box from home 
with cake and pickles and things, and we are 
going to cook weinies over the gas, don’t you 
adore weinerwurst ? — and make fudges on Nan’s 
alcohol lamp, and is n’t this bully, she got her 
brother to send her a box of cigarettes. Did 
you ever smoke one?” 

“Tobacco ones?” gasped Sue. 

“What other kind are there, silly? Did you 
want maple sugar ones?” 

“Why — why, father got Davie some cubeb 
cigarettes for a cold. I’d die before I’d touch 


268 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


one of the other kind, why— why, it’s wicked !” 

“Oh, of course,” said Maze hastily, seeing 
she had gone too far. “You don’t have to 
smoke them — I never did, either. Enid tried 
once and got deathly sick, but Nan says it’s lots 
of fun, if you know how. But, anyway, we are 
going to have a jolly time to spite Miss Thaw. 
She and that Cutting girl are thick as hops. 
Was n’t it the greatest fun when Miss Thaw 
complimented Enid on her history this morn- 
ing, and she had been reading the dates right 
off her cuffs the whole time? Would n’t her 
old eyes wink if she knew that? Thank good- 
ness, the door is unlocked!” 

Through the skylight the moonbeams filtered, 
turning the bare old gymnasium into a sort of 
dreamy fairyland, the little stage with its scen- 
ery and drapings, the gallery that ran around 
three sides of the great room, the swinging ropes 
and horizontal bars, even the chest weights and 
Indian clubs seemed turned to silver and had 
lost all their prosaic, work-a-day look. 

“You know,” whispered Maze, “the door to 
the gallery is always locked, but we can lift one 
of the ladders and rest it against the gallery 
railing and then shin up. It will be lots of 
fun.” 

Just where the fun was Maze failed to make 


SUE’S REBELLION 


269 


plain, as the two girls tagged and strained at 
the heavy iron-bound ladder, but little by little 
they raised it until it stood upright and then 
began to let it slowly fall toward the gallery 
railing. 

“Careful now,” whispered Sue, breathlessly. 
“Lift her up there, let her down easy!” 

But alas, alas — “the best laid schemes o’ 
mice and men gang aft agley ” — she stood, she 
rocked, she swayed, and then, missing the rail- 
ing, with one mighty plunge the ladder fell for- 
ward with a crash that reached every waking 
or sleeping ear in Hope Hall ! 

Stunned and shaken by the awful noise and 
their terrific effort, the girls stood for one mo- 
ment clinging to each other, their eyes staring, 
their breath coming in gasps, their bodies rigid 
in expectant fear, and then Maze Wood dashed 
away toward the one avenue of escape, the linen 
closet, and Sue was left alone. 

Sue heard the door bang, and the key turn 
in the lock, for Maze well knew the teachers 
would come down the front hall, and if the door 
was locked behind her, she could hide in the 
closet until they had passed, and then rush up 
the side stairs to 14. That Sue would be caught 
like a rat in a trap neither troubled nor alarmed 
her, for, as she explained a few minutes after to 


270 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


the breathless, laughing girls in Number 14, 
“ Sue’s game and she’ll never tell.” 

As for Sue, she was never so frightened in her 
life, she could hear footsteps coming down the 
front hall, then the murmur of voices, and it 
seemed to her as if they were the footsteps and 
the voices of a regiment. She could hear her 
own heart beating and the solemn tic-tock of 
the big electric clock above the door, then, 
driven by her desperate strait and her over- 
whelming fright, she suddenly bounded toward 
the stage, and, falling on her knees, crept be- 
hind the curtain that was draped about it. Here 
it was close and dusty, she could scarcely move 
without striking some of the timbers that upheld 
the platform, or knocking over the chairs and 
boxes that had been thrust under the curtain 
to get them out of sight. Fairly holding her 
breath and crouching there in the dust and 
darkness, the time seemed endless before the 
door of the gymnasium opened and Miss Hope’s 
voice said: 

“The noise certainly came from this direc- 
tion, but it seems deserted enough now.” 

After her trailed all the teachers, and Sue, 
from her peephole, could see them, in wrappers 
and dressing gowns, each with her candle, as 
they went from locker to locker, looking behind 



/.'•s33z«(#ni**ce j3e C 6 " 


SUE WAS NEVER SO FRIGHTENED IN HER LIFE 



. 






































































' 

























































































































































































































SHE’S REBELLION 


273 


screens and investigating corners. It was Miss 
Thaw who raised the curtain that draped the 
stage platform. It was Miss Thaw who threw 
the light of her candle upon the dusty, dishev- 
eled little figure, with its tousled black curls 
and frightened eyes, and it was Miss Thaw who 
said coldly: 

“You need look no further, ladies! Here is 
the culprit, and I am not at all surprised.” 

Never in Sue’s short life had she felt so 
ashamed, so humiliated, as when upon her hands 
and knees she crept out of her dusty retreat and 
stood before her teachers. The amazed, yet 
quizzical, glance of Miss Hope, the sneering 
smile of Miss Thaw, were hard to bear, but it 
was the shocked expression upon Miss Sar- 
gent’s face, the tears in Miss Gribble ’s eyes 
that cut her to the heart. 

At a word from Miss Hope, Miss Gribble put 
her arm around the shrinking, trembling girl 
that stood before them, and led her away. At 
the door of 21 Miss Gribble kissed her tenderly 
and said : 

“Go in, my dear, and try to sleep, and re- 
member, I love you dearly. ” At the kind words 
Sue clung to her for a moment in silence, and 
then slipped into her own room. 

Virginia, at Sue’s entrance, sat up in bed, as 
16 


274 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


if about to speak, but when Sue, too miserable 
to look at her, turned her back, she lay down 
again and made no sign, though Sue tossed wide 
awake all night. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A VAGRANT REPENTANCE 

W ITH the first tap of the breakfast hell, 
without ceremony, Maze Wood opened 
the door of 21, and thrusting in a laughing face, 
said in a shrill whisper : 

“How are you, Sue, old girl? Still alive, I 
hope.” 

Sue had been sitting at the window since 
daybreak, trying to settle her mind on her 
Latin. Her pale, anxious face and the dark 
circles under her eyes told of her sleepless night, 
and now, without lifting her eyes from her book, 
she replied dully: 

“I’m still intact, with no thanks to you.” 
“Pooh, don’t be huffy*” protested Maze, 
chuckling. “All’s fair in love and war, and 
you did n’t expect a Screech Owl would be such 
a duffer as to stay there and get caught, did 
you? Miss Hope told me only last week one 
more demerit and I’m done for, and daddy 
says if I’m expelled it’s a convent next time, 
and please excuse me from that.” 

275 


276 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“I don’t know anything about the Screech 
Owls, but a Minnehaha would scorn to get a 
girl into a scrape and then lock the door on her. 
But it’s all right; I was an idiot to go in the 
first place, and my head aches too bad to con- 
tinue this discussion.” 

“Oh, I see,” jeered Maze, perching herself 
on a stool just inside the door. “It’s a case 
of ‘take thy beak from out my heart and take 
thy form from off my door,’ but I’m perfectly 
comfortable, thank you, so quoths this raven 
‘nevermore.’ ” 

Virginia, who had been pinning her collar 
before the mirror, turned with a look of con- 
tempt at this, and said quietly : 

“Excuse me, I have n’t the least idea what 
you are talking about, but I don’t think Sue 
is well enough to be troubled this morning. 
You can see by her face that she is suffering. 
Won’t you have a dose of seltzer, Sue, dear, 
and let me call Nurse Cheesman?” 

“Humph, you don’t say,” sneered Maze. 
“I have heard that Nurse Cheesman gives pills 
for chilblains and broken noses, so perhaps she 
will have some suited to a Thaw panic,” and 
with this last thrust she was gone. 

But, at the first word of Virginia’s question, 
in the old, loving tone, impetuous Sue’s arms 


A VAGRANT REPENTANCE 277 


had gone out, and now, sobbing and repentant, 
she laid her head on Virginia’s shoulder and 
poured out the whole story. As Virginia 
listened her heart sank lower and lower, for 
she knew with the exception of Miss Sargent 
and Miss Gribble, the teachers felt that Sue’s 
fascination, not only for the Minnehahas, but 
for the little girls, as well, was dangerous, 
coupled, as it was, with her impetuosity and 
her lack of discipline. 

Martha Cutting’s scholarship could not fail 
to attract such a teacher as Miss Thaw, and 
having once found her way into her teacher’s 
heart through her excellent work, she cultivated 
it by a dozen little arts, for in delicate atten- 
tions and subtle flatteries Martha was an adept. 
Miss Thaw had no idea she had made a confi- 
dential friend of her brilliant pupil, but so 
cleverly had Martha felt her way that her 
teacher had few secrets from her, and the one 
that gave her the most pleasure was that Miss 
Thaw thoroughly distrusted and disliked Sue 
Roberts, Sue, her one rival with Virginia and 
Miss Gribble. From the time she knew this she 
was careful that Miss Thaw should be kept fully 
informed of all Sue’s peccadilloes, just as she 
was careful Virginia should hear of the dis- 
paraging opinion of Sue held by most of the 


278 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


teachers, and that she, by her bland questioning, 
had gathered from Miss Thaw. For Martha 
soon learned that Virginia longed to be loved 
and admired by her teachers, just as she learned 
that her every instinct was toward the propri- 
eties and the conventionalities, and that while 
her love for Sue kept her loyal, she hated the 
rollicking feasts and the hoydenish powwows 
of the Minnehahas that were Sue’s particular 
delight, and that she rebelled inwardly at much 
she was compelled to take part in. 

Now Martha had never stopped to analyze 
her feeling toward Sue Roberts — she had laid 
no deep plans nor dark schemes, she was just 
drifting like many another girl, drifting with 
the current, the current of her vanity, her jeal- 
ousy and her great longing to be Virginia ’s best 
friend. She knew that while Sue was at Hope 
Hall she could not hope to win the prize in 
vocal music, and so must miss her trip to 
Europe, nor could she hope to be Virginia’s 
roommate, and with Sue out of the way these 
things so much coveted would be hers. 

But Virginia knew nothing of all this, only 
that Sue, through her own jaunty pertness, had 
not the standing in the school she should have, 
that Miss Thaw was suspicious of her, Miss 
Hope doubtful, and that the other teachers, 


A VAGRANT REPENTANCE 279 


with the exception of Miss Gribble and Miss 
Sargent, felt that her influence was not of the 
best, and now Sue, by her waywardness and 
disobedience, had placed herself at their mercy. 

“Oh, Virginia,” groaned Sue, “if I hadn’t 
been rude to Miss Thaw that day, and had gone 
with the girls, I never would have gotten into 
this. But I knew when I looked into her eyes 
last night she had never forgiven me for calling 
her the hatefullest teacher in Hope Hall, and 
I was ashamed of that, and I would have liked 
to beg her pardon ; but she would never believe 
that now, and just think, I was playing the 
coward. But I was so furious when she called 
me ill-bred, and I knew how ashamed father 
and Masie would have been of me that minute. 
Oh, what a fool I looked last night when I crept 
out there before them all — but oh, but oh, what 
hurt me worst was Miss Sargent and Miss 
Gribble; they have just begged me to be good 
and behave like other girls, and not to he so 
noisy and slangy, and someway when Miss 
Gribble kissed me at the door last night I felt 
as if I had brought disgrace on her, too — and 
Masie and father — poor, poor father ! Oh, Vir- 
ginia, I can’t bear it!” 

“There, there, dear,” soothed Virginia, pat- 
ting the bent head and wiping her own tears 


280 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


away. “Perhaps it will come out all right.” 

“I did n’t care a flip about going up there 
last night, Virginia, I don’t like those girls a 
bit, honest I don’t. But I was so glad to get 
out of here, for you . . . you . . . 
seemed so sort of far away, and I got des- 
perate . . .” 

“Don’t, Sue, don’t! I can’t bear that,” 
moaned Virginia. “It was all my silly pride, I 
could n’t forgive you for believing I would talk 
against you to Martha, ‘and I just would n’t 
speak first.” 

“I did n’t believe it . . . not really, Vir- 

ginia, but I was so angry I had to hurt some- 
body back, and you were nearest. Please for- 
give me!” 

“Forgive you, dear old Sue, there is nothing 
to forgive. You just said it on the spur of the 
moment, and I sulked and brooded over it for 
three days. It is you who must forgive. Your 
poor head will be much worse if you cry so, Sue. 
Let me go for Nurse Cheesman and she will 
cuddle you all up and bring you your breakfast, 
and you will feel better.” 

“But promise me, Virginia,” begged Sue, 
“not one word to anybody about Maze Wood or 
'Number 14. I could n’t endure they should 






















1 3 E S . I H '* I ; 


























































' • : ' ■ 






♦ 

. • ■ ■ ■ 

























I 


























































A VAGRANT REPENTANCE 283 


think I betrayed them. I conld stand anything 
better than that.” 

“I promise, if yon will lie down and be quiet. 
Here is the cologne and the smelling salts; 
please do, Sue!” So by dint of coaxing and 
soothing Virginia left a more cheerful girl un- 
der dumpy little Mrs. Cheesman’s care when 
she went down to breakfast. 

It was ten o’clock when Sue opened her eyes 
after her long nap. Virginia had gone to class, 
and Nurse sat darning at the window. The 
heavy weight fell on Sue’s heart again, as she 
caught sight of the squat little figure — for she 
had been dreaming of racing with Peggy among 
the apple trees of Cherryfair, and sighing, she 
turned wearily and closed her eyes. 

“Are you awake now, Miss Roberts?” in- 
quired Nurse, coming over to the bed. ‘ ‘ How is 
your head?” 

“Much better, thank you. It is too bad you 
had to sit up here so long.” 

“Oh, that is a part of my work, you know. 
Miss Hope sent up word that as soon as you 
were awake I was to help you dress and send 
you down to the office. I hope you have n ’t been 
up to any pranks, honey. ’ ’ 

“Oh, dear,” sighed Sue. “Yes, I have, 


284 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


nursie, but it’s no use being a coward, so I’ll 
get up and get it over with, since it’s got to 
come. ’ ’ 

A few moments later, still weak and dizzy, but 
carefully dressed, her pompadour at its most 
daring pitch, her big bows waving, her face 
set in a pale smile, and trying her bravest to 
look as jaunty as usual, she tripped down the 
stair and knocked at the office door. 

To her surprise there was no one in the office 
but Miss Hope, and the unexpectedness of it 
almost dashed her courage. She did n’t know 
quite what she had expected to see, all the 
faculty in a circle surely, and if they had been 
cloaked and masked, with Miss Thaw posing as 
a headsman, after the manner of the pictures of 
the inquisition, she would have not been so ab- 
solutely overwhelmed as she was at the sight 
of that quiet little figure at the desk, and some- 
way, as she looked, the reckless bravado she had 
been trying to assume faded away, and into 
her impulsive heart crept the sweet desire to 
act the little woman father and mother thought 
her. 

‘ ‘ Come, Susan, and tell me all about it, ’ ’ that 
was what Miss Hope said, not lovingly, nor 
tenderly, as Miss Sargent would have spoken, 
but strongly, sincerely, as one woman to an- 


A VAGRANT REPENTANCE 285 


other, and Sue walked forward and took the 
chair by the principal and bravely told her 
story. 

She told of her anger at Virginia and 
Martha’s name being on the list, of her rude- 
ness to Miss Thaw, of her longing to apologize, 
and her foolish resistance of her good impulse, 
of her quarrel with her room-mate, and then of 
her desire to punish Virginia’s silence of the 
night before by breaking the rule. 

“I can give no names. I am sure you see 
that, Miss Hope. But every girl you could 
possibly suspect of being with me was innocent 
last night. Of that I assure you. ’ ’ 

For the first time during Sue’s recital Miss 
Hope’s stern face brightened into a smile, the 
explanation was so like Sue. 

“Well, my child, I never ask my girls to tell 
upon one another, unless it comes to a matter 
of such proportions that it must be sifted to the 
very bottom, and even then, I prefer to gather 
my own information. In this case you are the 
girl I want to understand. You have acted as 
foolishly as I would have expected, but you have 
been very frank in your explanation, and I be- 
lieve absolutely in your truth, Susan. Virginia 
Clayton is your best friend, your truest friend, 
in that she tries to lead you toward the right. 


286 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


No doubt she has her faults ; I have been dealing 
with girls thirty years, yes fifty, for I was a 
girl once myself, and I have never found a single 
angel among them ; each has her particular fault 
or faults to conquer and control. You quar- 
reled with Virginia, but she is your loving 
friend, for she has been with me pleading for 
you and taking much of the blame herself ; then, 
too, Miss Gribble and Miss Sargent have been 
in to plead your cause ; and so, you see, my dear, 
you can not suffer all the pain of your wrong- 
doing; it falls on the hearts of your faithful 
friends, whom you never dreamed of hurting. 
The reason for insisting upon chaperons I do 
not care to go into, but it was a good and suffi- 
cient one. I placed Virginia and Martha upon 
that list because, they are always quiet and 
ladylike. Not a teacher has to say to them, 
‘More quietly, please/ ‘not so loud/ ‘more 
gently/ but how many times a day is that 
said to you? I hope to see the time when 
Sioux the Indian becomes Susan the true 
woman, but that can only be through your own 
efforts. We can only hope and wait. From 
your demerit I can not rightfully save you and 
it is to be your punishment that now at this 
happy Christmas time your report card must 
bear a black mark. It is because of your really 


A VAGRANT REPENTANCE 287 


strong work in your classes and your unselfish- 
ness among your mates that you get off so easily 
this time. A girl who has so much influence as 
you have, Susan, among not only the girls of her 
own age, but the little ones as well, who is as 
ready and willing to do kindnesses, and who is 
naturally as cheerful and buoyant, ought to do 
a beautiful work in her school, but if, in spite 
of these God-given traits, she prefers to be rude, 
noisy, untrustworthy, then she must take her 
place among the goats — every school has them 
— and my gentle sheep and my guileless little 
lambs must be guarded from her influence; it 
all lies with the girl herself. Perhaps you have 
never thought of it in this way before. And 
now I hope, Susan, you will come back after 
Christmas to make the most of yourself in every 
way. You are excused.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


A SERIOUS TRIFLE 

S UE’S trouble at Hope Hall had come too 
near the Christmas holidays to attract 
much attention from the girls. Even if she 
was more meek — they had no time to exclaim 
over it, as their poor brains were in a turmoil, 
divided between the agony of examinations and 
the rapture of going home. 

The report card Sue carried to Cherryfair 
showed excellent standings with one exception, 
in the lower corner, opposite the word deport- 
ment stood that ugly black cross. Sue was 
glad to slip into father’s study the very first 
hour of her return and tell him all about it. 
His reproof, coming on the first night, after 
he had been parted from his little daughter 
for four months could not be very strongly 
expressed, especially as perched on his chair 
with an arm around his neck, she abused her- 
self so roundly and was so very magnanimous 
toward everybody else. Indeed he was com- 
pletely disarmed by her tactics and found him- 
288 


A SERIOUS TRIFLE 289 

self taking her part with a good deal of ve- 
hemence. 

“ There, Sue,” he laughed and said: “you are 
the same little Irishman; I see, Miss Hope 
has n’t taken that out of you. You ought to 
be well scolded and shut up in a dark closet, 
but instead you get the kiss and laugh you 
were angling for. But remember, daughter- 
ling, the discipline I do not give you must 
come some day. Every little moth is sure to 
get her wings singed, if she won’t keep away 
from the candle flame.” 

And this was her dismissal, instead of the 
stern lecture she so richly deserved. Away 
she danced for a “lovering” with Masie, a 
game of blind-man ’s-butf with the children, 
then to help Mandy with the tea, and be, as 
she expressed, “Johnnie-on-the-spot all over the 
place,” forgetting utterly, for the time at least, 
the shoulder to shoulder talk she had had with 
Miss Hope. 

There were reasons why Mr. Roberts could 
not bear to cast a shadow over Sue’s holidays, 
for he knew he must tell her, before she re- 
turned to Hope Hall, that he would be forced to 
resign his ministry and go to Mexico for the 
winter, leaving the dear ones alone, and that 
in the spring Cherryfair must find a new ten- 


290 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


ant; for the Roberts family, who had been so 
happy beneath its dilapidated roof, were to 
find a new home in Chicago where Mr. Roberts 
was to go into business. 

But Sue, when father and Masie told her the 
night before she returned to school, was, as 
always, before the inevitable, brave and cheer- 
ful. She reassured them wonderfully, and grew 
so very merry over the idea of father well again, 
and the wonderful fortunes that would be- 
fall them in a big city, that she promised again 
and again that not a single thoughtless act of 
hers should bring another shadow, now that they 
must stand by one another in troublous times — 
poor little pie crust promises, but none the less 
sincere at the moment. 

To Virginia the two weeks spent at Cherry- 
fair seemed the most delightful of her life. 
She had been wise enough not to tell Sue of 
Martha’s urgent invitation to be her guest at 
Christmas time, for the Roberts family felt 
Virginia belonged to them and she had her 
own particular place in every heart at Cherry- 
fair. 

Martha was farther from understanding the 
friendship than ever, but in spite of Virginia’s 
unswerving loyalty she felt Sue must surely 
soon fall into a pit of her own digging. Mar- 


A SERIOUS TRIFLE 


291 


tka was not aware that she meant to hasten 
the catastrophe, bnt she certainly did not mean 
to throw ont a lifeline. There was so little 
of this on the surface that volatile Sue went 
back to Hope Hall thinking at last Martha and 
she were quite good friends. 

So it happened that Martha was in Number 
21 the day Virginia’s belated South American 
Christmas gifts arrived. Among them was a 
little box addressed to Sue, and in it was a 
quaint silver bracelet with a cunningly wrought 
clasp in which was a tiny key hole. 

‘ ‘ The key to this I wear on my watch chain, ’ ’ 
wrote Thad, “for it seems as if somebody 
ought to have Susan Plenty on the end of a 
chain. ’ ’ 

“Pooh,” sniffed Sue, trying to force the 
pretty trinket over her plump hand, “and how 
did he expect I was going to get into the thing 
when it’s locked and he has the key! Isn’t 
that just like that absurd boy?” 

“Oh, you see,” Virginia explained, “Father 
has sent me one just like it, except that yours 
has topaz set in the links where mine has gar- 
nets, and my key will unlock yours. Here, let 
me try.” 

Sue looked on with frowning brows while 
Virginia fitted the bracelet to her wrist, and 
17 


292 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


snapping the clasp, locked it with the little key. 
She stood quite still for a moment looking at it 
and then she said beseechingly, catching a quick 
breath : 

“Please take it off again, Virginia. I can’t 
stand it. It makes me think of handcuffs and 
jails and things. Ugh, I hate it! I believe 
I would die if I had anything locked on me. I 
can’t get my breath.” 

“You absurd girl,” laughed Virginia, but 
someway she fancied Sue’s cheeks had grown 
paler and she hastened to unlock the little chain. 
“You will lose it if it isn’t locked.” 

“No, I won’t, for I’ll keep it in its box,” 
chuckled Sue, hiding it deep in the pink cotton 
wool. “It was awfully dear of Thad to give 
me one just like yours, Virginia, but there is 
something in me that rebels at authority or 
discipline, or any thing that does not leave 
me free, free, free! It’s so good to be alive 
when you can do exactly as you please and I’d 
a lot rather be dead than locked up, I don’t 
care who carried the key.” 

“Foolish old Sue,” laughed Martha conde- 
scendingly, jealousy tugging at her heart that 
Thad had sent Sue the pretty gift, but she was 
somewhat comforted by Sue’s disregard of it, 
for surely Virginia would not like to have her 



the day Virginia’s belated south American Christmas gifts arrived 










> . 




v 





























: ’ 








- ^ 
























A SERIOUS TRIFLE 


295 


brother's gift so slighted. “ Just as if we were 
not all held fast by duty. The discipline has 
to come sometime." 

“I remember the time, I was about three, 
when Aunt Serena tied me with a thread be- 
cause I ran away and I almost went into con- 
vulsions. She was pretty glad to break that 
thread, I can tell you," laughed Sue, “and I 
felt the same way about the bracelet, a minute 
more I would have been kicking and screaming 
as I did then." 

“You are a strange girl, Sue," and Virginia 
put her arm about her. “You are so good and 
unselfish, and yet I never knew any one who 
hated so much to obey. Now, I don't mind 
that a bit." 

“And I," replied Sue, returning the embrace 
vehemently, “don't care what they do to me, 
so long as they let me have my liberty. Oh, 
girls," she cried a moment later, as she was 
locking away the bracelet in the drawer of her 
desk. “Here is a box of cubeb cigarettes 
father got for Mandy’s cold when I was home. 
I brought them along for a frolic and forgot 
all about them. Let's each smoke one. Have 
one, Martha?" 

Sue did not explain that she 1 would never 
have thought of bringing the cubebs to school 


296 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


if Maze Wood had not put it in her naughty 
head when she told her of Nan Dempcy’s es- 
capade. 

“I don’t think I care for one, thank you,” 
replied Martha, sniffing daintily at the box 
Sue offered her. “I don’t like the smell of 
them, what are they, anyway!” 

“Oh, just some spicy little berries ground 
up. They are fine for some colds, Dr. Burton 
told father about them. They’re awfully jolly. 
Come along, Virginia, I heard you sneeze one 
day last summer. Let’s be sociable.” 

But Virginia, after a whiff or two, declared 
she had plenty, so foolish Sue, thinking she was 
horrifying Martha — she did so love to shock 
Martha — put her feet on a chair in as mannish 
an attitude as she could assume, and puffed 
away, pretending to enjoy it immensely. 

“That was lots of fun,” she assured the 
girls when the cigarette was reduced to ashes 
and Martha was giving affected little coughs. 
“I’m going to lock up these cubebs with my 
bracelet, and some night when the Minnehahas 
are here we’ll crush ’em up — the cigarettes, 
not the ’Hahas — and smoke ’em in a peace 
pipe. Wouldn’t Miss Thaw’s old eyes wink 
if she could see in that drawer, and wouldn’t 
she love to catch me smoking. Beg pardon, 


A SERIOUS TRIFLE 


297 


Martha, Pm always forgetting she’s a friend 
of yours. She has no love for Susie.” 

“Well, whose fault is that?” asked Martha, 
sarcastically. “I don’t think you cultivated 
her very assiduously; have you, Sue?” 


CHAPTER XX 


THE END OF SIOUX 

C HRISTMAS vacation being over the girls 
had flocked back to Hope Hall quite ready 
to settle down to good hard work. Nan 
Hempcy returning with an indigestion, and 
Enid Fenno engaged, proved in Miss Hope’s 
opinion blessings in disguise, for Nan was so 
cross and disagreeable that Number 14, for the 
time at least, lost its attraction, and Enid was 
so self-satisfied and patronizing, the Screech 
Owls unanimously voted her a bore, and so, 
lacking a leader in their mischief, settled down 
to their books in real earnest. 

The Minnehaha suddenly turned itself into 
a philanthropic organization, for Sue had awak- 
ened to the fact that her washer-woman was a 
widow with six small children and she beset 
the “ ’Hahas” with the most impassioned enthu- 
siasm, working them up into such hysterical 
sympathy that Miss Hope was forced to call 
a halt, or it is doubtful if they would have 
possessed a shoe or stocking, to say nothing of 
298 


THE END OF SIOUX 


299 


ribbons with which to bedeck themselves. 
Even good Mrs. McAdoo and her children were 
thankful of their rescue for there is such a 
thing as being drowned in charity and the 
McAdoos had certainly been well soused. 
Feeling deeply chagrined at this interference 
and the seeming ingratitude of their victims, 
the Minnehaha formed itself with dignity into 
a book club and grew so superior that even Miss 
Thaw smiled frostily upon them. But Miss 
Hope remarked to Mrs. Rood with a shrewd 
smile : 

“It is as well to be prepared just now for 
any catastrophe. This isn’t normal. We are 
entirely too exalted and great will be our fall. 
I am just holding my breath.” 

But with Nan, Enid and Sue subdued for a 
time, the girls kept earnestly to their work. 
Beyond the everyday failures to be expected, 
there was not a single black mark during the 
first month, and as this beatific state still con- 
tinued into the second even Miss Hope became 
unwary, and when Miss Gribble finding that 
Washington’s birthday fell upon Friday, their 
regular gala night, suggested to the faculty a 
fancy dress party, there was not a dissenting 
voice. 

There was great rejoicing in Hope Hall when 


300 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


the pretty invitations, on the well-known violet 
paper with the violet seal, appeared. 

“Martha Washington and her friends will 
be pleased to meet “Pocahontas” in the music- 
room upon the evening of February twenty- 
second, from eight until ten,” was the invita- 
tion addressed to Miss Sioux Roberts instead 
of to Susan Plenty, as was Miss Hope’s usual 
way. While Virginia’s was for “Molly Ball,” 
much to her joy. 

“And oh, and oh, you can’t guess who’s going 
to be Martha Washington!” sang little Dolly 
Bates skipping down the hall, for Dolly had an 
unerring nose for news and had a way of tan- 
talizing the older girls into giving her all sorts 
of bribes for allaying their curiosity. 

“Pooh, that isn’t worth a picayune, Dolly,” 
snapped Nan Dempcy, “go along and take your 
noise with you, goosie; everybody knows it is 
Miss Hope.” 

“But it isn’t, it isn’t!” shrieked Dolly. 
“You are as cold as ice — guess again!” 

“Miss Thaw,” guessed Enid, with a grin. 
“She’d make a charming Martha. She looks 
like a clothes-pole wrapped in a flag in that new 
gown she’s wearing.” 

“It ’s no such thing, and it isn’t Miss Sar- 
gent, nor Frauline, nor anybody you would ever 


THE END OF SIOUX 


301 


guess. Nurse Cheesman told me, because I 
took my cod-liver oil without making a fuss. 
But I’m not going to tell,” chanted saucy 
Dolly capering about on the tips of her toes. 
“I know ... I know . . . but I’m 
. . . not . . . going . . . to . . . 
tell!” 

Enid darted toward her, but Dolly was too 
quick and ran straight into Sue’s protecting 
embrace, as she came out of the music-room. 

“What’s up, Dollykins?” laughed Sue, whirl- 
ing the child up in her lithe young arms. 
“What have you been doing to Enid?” 

“Oh, I know something I won’t tell,” jeered 
Dolly from her refuge. “But you are my par- 
ticular friend, so I’ll tell you. It’s who is 
going to be Martha Washington and it’s a 
dead secret.” 

“You don’t say,” replied Sue, when in a 
shrill whisper Dolly had parted with her news. 
“Is she much?” 

“Much!” cried Dolly, incensed that Sue 
should take her wonderful secret so stupidly. 
“Much! Why, she’s the dearest, darlingest, 
preciousest thing you ever saw! Isn’t she, 
Enid? It is Miss Hope’s mother and she’s 
coming to-day.” 

This, to the girls who had been at Hope Hall 


302 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


long, was good news, indeed, for the “little 
Madame,’ ’ as they lovingly called Mrs. Hope, 
was a great favorite, and Miss Hope always 
laughingly declared she could only allow her at 
the Hall on especial occasions, as she would 
soon have the girls utterly ruined by indulgence. 

She came that very night, and if Sue had 
failed to appreciate the news of her coming 
she was enthusiastic enough over the little old 
lady after seeing her to satisfy even Dolly, 
who, being an orphan and left in Miss Hope’s 
care, knew her mother well. 

Mrs. Hope was the tiny original of her 
daughter ; white hair, black eyes, delicate color- 
ing that reminded one of an old water color, but 
with a motherly smile that dazzled. So quick 
was she upon her feet, so playful in her man- 
ner, so winning in voice, so sweet in spirit that 
the girls trooped about her and fairly wailed 
over the stupid study bell that called them to 
duty. 

If Sue and Virginia were anxious to appear 
well at the party before Mrs. Hope’s arrival 
they were now frantic in their desires to look 
their very best. ‘ ‘ Silks and blankets, fans and 
warpaint, combs and feathers, slippers and moc- 
casins” — both talked at once, and one grew so 
bewildered by the other ’s brilliant ideas it is a 


THE END OF SIOUX 


303 


wonder that Molly Ball and Pocahontas did not 
appear before Martha Washington and her 
friends in a marvelous tangle. But, strange to 
say, matters straightened themselves out beau- 
tifully, after some patient work, and in Number 
21, upon the night of February twenty-second, 
pirouetted joyfully a most fascinating Molly 
Ball. 

Aunt Sibyl, who fortunately had returned 
to Kinikinnick just in time, had sent Virginia 
her great-great-grandmother ’s corn-colored 
silk gown. There was a family tradition of 
how the little great-great-grandmother had 
stepped the minuet with General Washington 
in that very gown, and of how he had gallantly 
kissed her hand at parting; but, be that as it 
may, she could have been no more bewitching 
than her little black-eyed descendant. With 
her powdered hair piled high upon her head, 
a warm flush on her dusky cheeks, her eyes 
sparkling under her black arched brows, her 
slender throat lifted proudly from the lace 
bertha, Virginia looked the grand dame to per- 
fection. Not a detail had Aunt Sibyl forgot- 
ten — the corn-colored satin slippers were great- 
great-grandmother’s own; the strands of amber 
beads, the quaint yellow lace fan that hung 
from an amber chain, and the great tortoise- 


304 


FEOM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


shell comb that reared itself above her head — 
George Washington himself might well have 
kissed her little brown hand. 

“You’re a dream, Virginia,” cried Sue, “a 
perfect dream!” 

“And yon, oh, Sue, I hate to say it,” gasped 
Virginia, with a shudder, “you’re a night- 
mare!” 

For Sue, realist to the core, had utterly re- 
fused to appear as the charming, poetic Poca- 
hontas, of whom, without doubt, Miss Hope 
was thinking when she had invited her. The 
Indian dress with its beads and wampum was 
partly hidden under the Navajo blanket, her 
long black braids hung from under her feather 
bonnet, but her bright, sparkling face was hide- 
ously transformed by bands and circles of red 
and yellow and blue, that she had coaxed 
Martha Cutting to paint upon it with her water 
colors, and Martha, who was to be the daintiest 
of Priscillas, nothing loath, had laid the colors 
on with lavishness. 

“Oh, Sue, it isn’t too late yet,” begged Vir- 
ginia. “Please, Sue, dear, I love you so much 
and I can’t bear to see you make yourself so 
ugly.” 

“Ugh, ugh!” grunted Sue, fastening a paper 
knife, and an old hair switch she had borrowed 


THE END OF SIOUX 305 

of Nurse Cheesman, to her belt. “Me heap 
big Injun !” 

“You’re horrid,” pouted Virginia. “I’m 
sure Thad wouldn’t — ” 

“Pooh, me big brave! Me no care for pale 
face boy, ’ ’ chuckled Sue, brandishing her toma- 
hawk dangerously near Virginia’s precious 
comb. “Me scalp his sister if she don’t shut 
up. Whoop-e!” 

“Oh, Sue, do be good,” protested Virginia. 
“I forgot to tell you, two strange ladies have 
come since dinner. Enid Fenno said Miss Hope 
was so surprised and delighted to see them. 
One is that lovely deaconess, Miss Pennypacker, 
your aunt’s friend.” 

“Ugh, ugh! Me big Injun. Me no ’fraid 
of white squaw,” grunted Sue provokingly. 

“Oh dear,” sighed Virginia, “I suppose it is 
no use, you always will have your own way.” 
But just then she caught a glimpse of herself 
in the mirror, and a girl can’t quite despair if 
she looks as if she had stepped from some old 
painting, even if her best friend does insist 
upon being a scarecrow. So dropping a recon- 
ciling kiss on the tip of Sue’s nose, the one spot 
that had escaped Martha’s brush, she sailed 
away, leaving Sue, who was determined upon 
making a more startling entrance. 


306 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


The music-room was all a-buzz and a-bustle 
when, fifteen minutes after “ Molly Ball” had 
made her advent, an Indian, half crouching 
under a gay blanket, shuffled in gloweringly. 
The dainty Puritan maids, the demure little 
Quakers, and ladies of high degree stopped on 
the instant in the midst of their merry babble to 
catch their breath in dismay, and then suddenly 
understanding, a gale of laughter swept the 
room. Not so with the little Dutch girls, in 
their stiff starched caps and long skirts, they 
shrank away trembling — even Dolly Bates, fail- 
ing to recognize Sue, ran as fast as her clatter- 
ing wooden shoes would let her to hide behind 
Martha Washington’s brocade skirts, and from 
that refuge take scared peeps at the slouching, 
muttering figure. 

“Good gracious!” giggled Nan Dempcy. 
“Just wait until Miss Hope sees her. Sue 
Roberts always does think of the most out- 
rageous things. Won’t old Thaw fall in a 
faint?” 

“I’d hate to make such a guy of myself, even 
to spite Miss Thaw,” whispered Enid, loud 
enough to reach Virginia, who stood with Mar- 
tha Cutting clenching her hands to keep from 
crying out; for if foolish Sue had looked a 
fright in the privacy of their own room, here 


THE MUSIC ROOM WAS ALL A-BUZZ WHEN AN INDIAN IN A GAY BLANKET SHUFFLED IN. 






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• \ I 





















































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THE END OF SIOUX 


309 


"under the lights and among the daintily dressed 
girls she was impossible. Though Virginia 
tried her best to smile the clutch of shame at 
her heart sent the blood flying to her face. 

But Sue was happy. She was making ex- 
actly the sensation she had wanted, the big girls 
were laughing, the little ones were quaking, and 
she herself had dared what not another girl 
in Hope Hall, not even the redoubtable Nan, 
would have ventured. 

4 ‘ Push her to the front,” urged Enid, her 
naughty heart beating high in anticipation 
under the meek, drab folds of her Quaker garb. 
“Come on, Nan, we must be there to see.” 

Crowding closely around the grotesque figure 
the girls pushed Sue rapidly down the room 
toward Mrs. Hope, who dressed as Martha 
Washington stood with her daughter and the 
other teachers in line. Sue felt to her finger 
tips that the girls were expecting something 
unusual in behavior to match her attire. To 
simply look weird and mutter she felt would 
be stupid, and the Minnehahas, some of whom 
had been in her secret, would never forgive 
her if she should be flat after attracting so much 
attention. She must do something startling, 
something thrilling, and be quick about it. 

Higher and higher rose her spirits as she 


310 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


heard the giggling girls elbowing behind her. 
She was quivering with excitement, her cheeks 
burning beneath their paint, her black eyes 
dancing, all thought of propriety, of courtesy, 
of common civility whisked from her brain by 
her mad desire to do something daring. Even 
the sight of the tall, dignified stranger, who 
looked at her in astonishment, only made her 
folly more headlong. Unluckily Sue did not see 
the trim little lady in gray who stood at the 
end of the line and whose eyes were flashing. 

“You George’s squaw?” inquired Sue, shak- 
ing Martha Washington’s hand vigorously, 
quite unmoved by the shocked expression on 
the kind old face. ‘ ‘ Him no tell lie, him did it 
with his little tomahawk. Him heap big chief. ’ ’ 

Rewarded for her audacity by the snicker- 
ing of the girls behind her, she passed down 
the line. “How, How!” was her greeting to 
Miss Hope, who as Lady Kitty Duer, stood 
next — even Miss Gribble’s low “careful, Sue, 
careful,” had no effect, and mounted now on 
the crest of the wave of her foolish excitement 
and hilarity she stood before Miss Pennypacker 
ready for anything. 

This was Aunt Serena’s famous friend — the 
tactful, dignified woman, whom Aunt Serena 
had told her so many times would be so shocked 


THE END OF SIOUX 


311 


by her rude, unladylike behavior. A madder 
impulse seized Sue. She would test the quality 
of the lofty example that had always been held 
up to her. Behind her Nan whispered and 
Enid laughed. They thought she was afraid of 
this tall woman who looked down on her saucy, 
painted grin with such calm grace. Sue fairly 
burned to distinguish herself. 

Then, all in a flash, she snatched the switch 
and the wickedly gleaming paper knife from 
her belt, threw herself forward to grasp Miss 
Pennypacker by her back hair, and with a wild 
whoop brandished her weapon and the flying 
switch like a scalp above her victim’s head. 

There was no doubt Sue had made her sen- 
sation. The girls fairly shrieked with laughter 
for a moment, then at the sight of Miss Hope’s 
flaming face they fell back frightened and dis- 
mayed. But for Sue herself there had been 
a more startling outcome, for hardly had she 
swooped forward when a voice made her turn 
aghast. 

‘ 4 Susan! Susan Plenty Roberts! Let go 
this instant! How dare you!” 

There was no mistaking that voice; those 
flashing eyes, nor that stern, set face, pale with 
righteous indignation. It was Aunt Serena 
Fulton’s voice, it was Aunt Serena’s hand shak- 
18 


312 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


ing her by the arm, Aunt Serena’s very self, 
and someway in that horrified face for the first 
time in her life Sue saw herself as she really 
was. 

She did not need to look into the burning 
faces of her teachers, nor see the dismayed 
glances of the girls. She did not need to hear 
Miss Hope’s quick, low “Go to your room, 
Susan,” nor Virginia’s suppressed sob, as she 
pushed forward to her side. 

“Come,” whispered Virginia, “come away, 
Sue.” 

Up the stairs they crept together to their 
own room to hide Sue and her disgrace, that 
dear room they had left so gaily such a little 
time before. If Virginia rebelled against Sue’s 
folly she did not show it, and indeed it would 
have taken a harder heart than hers to have 
been anything but kind to that trembling girl; 
her face pale through the disfiguring paint, her 
eyes strained and staring. 

“Cry, dear, cry!” urged Virginia, the tears 
streaming down her own face, as with shaking 
hands she helped Sue off with her feathers and 
beads. “I can’t bear to see you like that, Sue. 
Please let me call Nurse Cheesman.” 

“No, oh, no!” moaned Sue, wringing her 
hands helplessly. “Go back, Virginia, and 


THE END OF SIOUX 


313 


leave me alone! I’ve disgraced you and every- 
body! Oh, Virginia, if I could only get away, 
if I could only go home! But I don’t think I 
could ever sing ‘Whoopsy saw, sine craw,’ 
nor dance with them all again.” 

‘ 4 Poor old darling, poor old girl!” and Vir- 
ginia pressed Sue’s head to her breast. 

“I was horrid, perfectly horrid! And I 
meant to be funny! Oh, I don’t know what I 
did mean, I was swept away by my silly de- 
sire to show off. But, oh, Virginia, I never 
knew ... I never knew, until I read it in 
Aunt Serena’s face . . . I’m awful . . . 
I’d hate to have a daughter like me ... I 
should think father and Masie would die of 
shame! Miss Hope, and dear Miss Sargent, 
they tried to help me, and Miss Gribble whis- 
pered to me to-night and I never listened. I 
just went on, and on, and on! And now it will 
all come down on father and mother, and on 
Aunt Serena, and she sent me here. She’s 
been kind to me all my life . . . most of 
the pretty things I have had she, or Uncle 
David have given me. Why even then I was 
spreading around in her gifts . . . Oh, I ’ve 
been such a fool, such a silly, wicked idiot, 
Virginia ! Phil said once they would send me 
home and I just laughed at him, and Betty 


314 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 

said if they did I would be a family disgrace 
. . . think of that ... I a disgrace 

. . . and oh, I am ... I am . . . 

but Phil, dear old Phil ... he said that 
he would always stand by me . . . oh, if I 

could only see him . . . and Aunt Serena 

. . . it’s no wonder she does n’t come to see 

me . . . but I would go to her if her heart 
was broken ... I would ... no dif- 
ference how bad she had been, and oh, Vir- 
ginia, I want her so ! ’ ’ 

“Do cry, Sue dear, your eyes look as if they 
were burning,” begged Virginia with her arms 
around her. “Perhaps it isn’t so bad after 
all.” 

“Virginia Clayton!” cried Sue starting up 
and grasping Virginia’s arm so tightly it made 
her cry out. “Tell me this ; did I, or did I not, 
act like a wild savage ... a girl you 
would scorn to know!” 

“I . . . I couldn’t believe you were my 

Sue,” faltered Virginia, “not the dear Sue of 
Cherryfair . . . and oh . . . and oh 
. . . I just wanted to catch you up in my 

arms and carry you away! Oh, what made 
you do it, Sue, what made you? If Nan Dempcy 


THE END OF SIOUX 


315 


“No, no, she wouldn’t, not even she,” 
groaned Sue, falling back on her pillow. “Oh, 
I wish I had never thought of calling myself 
Sioux! It’s no wonder Mrs. Rood laughed at 
my card. I remember father said once he 
did n ’t believe a Sioux squaw would be as rude 
as I am sometimes ... Oh I had better 
die, Virginia, for I never can be a nice, good 
Susan girl ... I will just always have to 
be a wild, whooping Indian,” and then, for the 
first time, Sue’s tears came, and burying her 
head in the pillow she sobbed as if her heart 
would break. 

Virginia feeling that this was much better 
for her than the wild, strained excitement let 
her grief have its way. Her own heart was 
very, very heavy, for Sue would be expelled, 
she felt sure of that, and she knew of the sor- 
row that would bring to the loving hearts at 
Cherryfair and to Mr. Roberts alone and ill 
in far off Mexico. 

By and by Sue, worn out by her grief and 
shame, lay quite silent, brooding over the 
trouble she had brought upon them all, and 
Virginia, in answer to the ten o ’clock bell, made 
ready for the night. They heard the girls 
come up and go trooping past their door. Poor 


316 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


Sue as she caught the sound of their gay voices 
shuddered and felt her cheeks burn. How could 
she ever look at them again ? 

Just as Virginia was about to turn out the 
light there came a gentle tap at the door and 
little Mrs. Hope, still in her brocade, came 
softly in. It seemed to penitent Sue that no 
vision was ever more lovely than that motherly 
old face, nor no sound more sweet than that 
gentle voice. 

“Dear little daughter,” she said, sitting 
down by Sue and taking the hot hand in hers. 
“I couldn’t go to sleep until I came to say 
good-night and God bless you.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


MISTAKEN LOYALTY 

I N the gray dawn of the morning Virginia 
was aroused from her sleep by the closing 
of the door, and opening her drowsy eyes she 
was astonished to see it was Sue, who had just 
come in. 

“Why, Sue?” she questioned sleepily; then 
the memory of Sue’s trouble rushed in upon 
her, “Oh, Sue, dear, where have you been?” 

‘ 1 Hush, honey, hush, ’ ’ and Sue, her eyes shin- 
ing softly, came running to snuggle down be- 
side her. “Oh, Virginia, you can never guess, 
but I just couldn’t sleep, so I slipped away to 
Aunt Serena, and oh, I’m so glad ... so 
glad I did ! I never knew her before, Virginia, 
never at all. She cuddled me up and comforted 
me, just as Masie would have done, and we 
cried together, and she told me how she loved 
me, and how she longed to help me. She says — 
Virginia, think of this — that I don’t need to 
be an Indian, that the day may come if I try 
from this time on, when we will be thankful for 
317 


318 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


last night. It doesn’t seem so now, does it? 
She says she blames herself that she did not 
tell me that the reason she has been so anxious 
for me to be good was because she was such a 
madcap. Not so bad as I am, I don’t suppose, 
Virginia; I don’t suppose anybody was ever 
so bad as that. And oh, I shall never forget 
how good she was; and she says I must be a 
woman and take my punishment bravely, and 
if Miss Hope feels she cannot overlook my con- 
duct, I must not blame her at all; for Aunt 
Serena made me see how much Miss Hope owes 
to each of the girls, and if I’m . . . oh, 

dear ... it does hurt so to think that 
. . . if I am a detriment to the school, it is 
her duty to send me away. But she said out 
of this failure I may build a lovely character, 
and that a young girl always sutlers so over 
her troubles because she can’t look beyond and 
see the great beauty that time and patience 
may bring from what seems the very end of 
things. Then she kissed me and told me she 
was going to try to help me more than ever; 
and I promised, not one of my old promises, 
but we just both promised God together, that 
I’ll work, and work, and try, and try, and I’ll 
grow, some day, into a sweet, good woman, 
like Masie.” 


MISTAKEN LOYALTY 


319 


“And I’ll try with you, Sue,” sobbed Vir- 
ginia, “we’ll both do our very best.” 

“Together,” whispered Sue. “This is to be 
the hardest day of my life, but I’m going to 
tiy to live it true and brave and strong; I’m 
going to try to be a woman.” 

But in spite of resolutions it was hard for 
Sue to eat her breakfast alone in her room, to 
hear the girls go whispering past her door, 
to know that in a few moments she must ap- 
pear before the faculty, and to feel that through 
her own foolishness she was in such disgrace. 
It was not always possible to think bravely of 
her father’s sorrow — since she had failed after 
promising so faithfully to be careful for his 
sake — nor of Masie’s grief, and she had none 
of the old bravado as she stood knocking at 
the office door. 

There was no doubt that at last Sue was 
appearing before the faculty. She felt her 
courage ooze as she glanced about the room 
and saw each teacher in her place. No, there 
was one vacant chair, and Sue wondered dully 
why Miss Thaw was not there. But just then 
she saw Aunt Serena’s face and saw her hand 
outstretched. How gladly she walked across 
the room and stood by her side ! 

Sue was so frightened and bewildered she 


320 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


hardly realized that Virginia, too, had entered 
the room and had gone directly to the desk, 
nor that Miss Hope, after some hesitation, had 
bowed assent to her low entreaty, and that 
now Virginia’s hand was clasped in hers. 

“Susan,” began Miss Hope sternly. “Of 
course, there is no need to tell yon why you have 
been called before your teachers. Nor need I, 
I am quite sure, tell you your behavior last 
evening was beyond the bounds of what could 
be tolerated. Last night I was your hostess, 
as well as your teacher, and you outraged my 
hospitality, insulted my honored guest, and 
brought discredit on the whole school. You 
remember when we had our other talk you 
promised me faithfully to do your best, and 
since then I have been proud of your marked 
improvement. I was never more astonished, 
nor humiliated than last night. What excuse 
have you to offer?” 

“None,” replied Sue brokenly. “I had no 
idea of doing any thing dreadful when I came 
downstairs, but someway I wanted to sur- 
prise you all . . . and ... oh Miss 

Hope, I don’t ask you to excuse it, but please 
let me tell you all how sorry and ashamed I 
am.” 

“And please, Miss Hope, won’t you let me 


MISTAKEN LOYALTY 


321 


plead for Sue,” Virginia was very pale, but 
her voice was firm and clear. ‘ ‘ Do you remem- 
ber when I came to you about her other trouble 
you said that we could none of us help her 
until she would see herself as others saw her?” 

“I do,” replied Miss Hope gravely. 

“And now ... oh, Miss Hope, Sue 
never, never in this world wants to do a start- 
ling thing again. She wants to be a Susan 
instead of a Sioux, she really, truly does!” 

“Is this a fact, Susan?” inquired Miss Hope. 
“Are you at last willing to be led rather than 
to lead? I have no place in my school for an 
Indian brave. I want gentle, winsome girls.” 

“I . . . I never want to hear the name 
of a Sioux again,” cried Sue. “I can’t tell 
you, Miss Hope, how I loathe it!” 

“That is the best news we could possibly 
hear,” Miss Hope’s face relaxed. “And now 
answer me this, Susan, have you broken any 
rule since your return?” 

“Oh, no,” replied Sue earnestly. 

“I am afraid Miss Boberts has forgotten.” 
It was Miss Thaw who spoke. She had come 
in so quietly they had not noticed her, but now 
she came forward with a contemptuous toss of 
her head. “I believe it is the unwritten law 
in every school for young ladies that ciga- 


322 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


rette-smoking will not be tolerated under any 
circumstances, yet I have positive proof that 
within the last fortnight not only has Miss 
Roberts smoked cigarettes, but she has also 
tried to entice two of her schoolmates to smoke 
with her.” 

“It is not true!” exclaimed Sue, starting 
forward. 

“This is a very grave charge, Miss Thaw,” 
replied Miss Hope, motioning Sue back. “You 
say you positively know this to be true?” 

“Ask Miss Roberts to give me the key to 
the right-hand drawer of her desk and I will 
prove it to you.” 

“Oh!” gasped Sue and Virginia together. 

“Why, Miss Hope,” cried Sue beseechingly, 
“it is only some cubebs that father got for 
Mandy’s cold. It was foolish of me, but surely 
it wasn’t so very wicked. I brought them 
back to school with me and the other day I 
happened to run across them when Martha Cut- 
ting was in our room and I offered one to each 
of the girls, Virginia just whiffed one and I, 
to shock Martha, sat with my feet up on a chair 
to smoke mine. It sounds so silly and . . . 

horrid now, but then ... it was only fun. 
I locked up the box with my bracelet in the desk 


MISTAKEN LOYALTY 323 

drawer and I really had forgotten all about 
it. Miss Thaw is welcome to my key.” 

“Is this true, Virginia ?” asked Miss Hope 
sternly. 

“Yes, Miss Hope, and I am sure none of us 
had an idea there was anything wrong about 
it.” 

“You are quite certain, Sue, that these were 
only the cubebs, and that your father bought 
them!” asked Miss Hope again. 

“I am sure, Susan is telling the exact truth,” 
said Mrs. Fulton, softly. “I have never known 
her to be anything but absolutely truthful.” 

“I too, have always found her so,” replied 
Miss Hope, “and I cannot doubt her now. 
Miss Thaw, I am sure this is only a bit of girl- 
ish folly, there has been no intentional wrong- 
doing, but to make all mistakes impossible you 
may take Miss Roberts’ key, if you please, and 
bring whatever you find in the drawer.” 

Neither Sue nor Virginia had the slightest 
doubt of the outcome, and Sue smiled frankly at 
Miss Gribble and Miss Sargent and lovingly 
pressed Aunt Serena’s hand. 

A few moments later Miss Thaw, her very 
skirts rustling triumphantly, laid upon Miss 
Hope’s desk a little flat white box and in gold 


324 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 

letters upon it was printed 4 4 Turkish ciga- 
rettes/ ’ 

“I see nothing about cubebs on this, Susan,” 
Miss Hope’s face was very set and stern. 
4 ‘That was a very clumsy falsehood, for even 
I know these are tobacco.” 

4 4 But Miss Hope,” cried Sue, blushing 
deeply at the accusation, 4 4 that is not my box 
at all ! Mine was bright red, and with the name 
cubebs on the outside!” 

4 4 Miss Roberts!” Miss Thaw’s voice was 
trembling with anger. 4 4 Do you mean to imply 
I did not find this box in the locked drawer of 
your desk? To prove it to your entire satis- 
faction here is the only other article in the 
drawer, this little box in which is a chain brace- 
let.” 

4 4 What can it mean?” faltered bewildered 
Sue. 4 4 That is not my box — ” 

4 4 Susan,” in Miss Hope’s face Sue could see 
no mercy. 4 4 How dare you again — ” 

It was Virginia who interrupted, Virginia, 
so white and shaken that Miss Thaw put out a 
hand to steady her, but whose voice was firm: 

4 4 Sue is quite right, this is not her box, that 
was red. This must be mine. Sue is perfectly 
innocent. She knew nothing about it.” 

44 Virginia, Virginia, it is n’t true,” cried Sue 


MISTAKEN LOYALTY 


325 


impetuously. “She thinks I will be expelled 
and she is trying to save me. Oh dear, dear 
Virginia, to think I, by my folly, should bring 
you ... It breaks my heart. There is 
not a word of truth in it, Miss Hope. Oh, Miss 
Thaw, please help me make Miss Hope see it 
couldn’t be Virginia’s. You know it isn’t 
true.” 

“Your confession would clear her at once — ” 

“But I can’t, Miss Thaw. I can’t confess to 
what I haven’t done, can I? I’m not brave 
enough to lie even for Virginia. I do not un- 
derstand it at all. I put a red box in the drawer 
and have never unlocked it since and Miss 
Thaw found this! Of course any of the desk 
keys would open my drawer, but why should 
any one want to? Virginia says it is hers, 
but I know, oh, surely all of you know there 
must be some mistake ! ’ ’ 

All this time Virginia stood with her head 
erect, her eyes fixed directly upon Miss Thaw. 
There was no other outward sign of emotion, 
she was absolutely cold and hard to all Sue’s 
wild beseeching. 

“This is certainly a strange case,” and Miss 
Hope rested her head wearily upon her hand. 
“As for Sue’s escapade last night it was small, 
indeed, compared to this grave offence and the 


326 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


falsehood to cover it — if it is a falsehood, which 
I much doubt. But if Sue is telling the truth, 
this must be settled at once. I wish, Miss Grib- 
ble, you would call Miss Cutting.’ ’ 

Martha Cutting came, gentle and sweetly 
smiling, as always. 

Yes, she had been in Number 21 the day Sue 
had offered them the cigarettes. Yes, Sue had 
said they were cubebs, and had wanted her to 
take one but she had disliked the odor and re- 
fused. Yes, Virginia had taken a single whiff 
and then she, too, had declined, but Sue had 
smoked one and afterward locked the box up 
in her desk, and said she would give them to 
the girls of the Minnehaha in a peace pipe. 
Yes, it was she, Martha, who had told Miss 
Thaw, for she felt the other girls might be 
tempted. 

“Why did you not come to me?” inquired 
Miss Hope sternly. “And do you mean that 
you thought the cigarettes were tobacco?” 

“I suspected it, as the odor was very disa- 
greeable.” 

“Can you identify the box?” 

“I ... I think so.” 

“Is this it?” 

“Yes — I think it is.” 


MISTAKEN LOYALTY 327 

“Oh Martha/ ’ cried Sue, “don’t you remem- 
ber, my box was red!” 

“I think,” went on Martha, paying no heed, 
‘ ‘ the box was white and gold. ’ ’ 

“Then you are sure this is the box!” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Miss Clayton says Miss Roberts is right, 
that her box was red, and contained cubebs, and 
that this box is her own. How can that be!” 

“I . . . I don’t understand,” gasped 

Martha, suddenly growing very pale. “Why 
. . . 0 Miss Hope, that can’t be true,” pro- 

tested Martha, “she’s trying to save Sue. 
Surely you do not suspect her.” 

“No more than I suspect Sue,” returned Miss 
Hope icily. ‘ ‘ This matter must be sifted to the 
bottom. I wish you girls to go to your rooms 
and stay there until I send for you. Ladies, I 
must have time to think this over. ’ ’ 

“Aunty, Aunty Hope!” it was Dolly Bates 
who had tiptoed softly into the room where Mrs. 
Hope sat reading, her heart heavy over the 
trouble that had fallen so suddenly on Hope 
Hall. “Aunty Hope, please, may I talk to 
you ! ’ ’ 

“Indeed you may, Dolly,” said Mrs. Hope, 

19 


328 'FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 

lifting the child to her lap. “Why, yon have 
been crying, darling, what is the matter 1 ’ 1 

“Oh, Aunty,” and Dolly’s lip quivered, 
“Enid Fenno says Miss Hope’s going to send 
my dear Sue away. We little girls cried and 
cried, and so did Nurse Cheesman, I saw her 
wiping her eyes; for, don’t you see, Aunty, 
Sue’s the very best friend we have. When we 
get colds and have to stay in she comes and 
rocks us, and sings and hears our prayers, and 
on rainy days she tells us stories and makes 
fudge. Nursie says she don’t know how she’ll 
get on without her. But that isn’t what I 
came to tell you. It’s about another girl that 
I just hate — ” 

“Oh, not hate, Dolly, you don’t hate any 
one.” 

“Well, I don’t like her, anyhow. This 
morning I was in Sue’s room, all alone. I often 
go in there and hide behind Sue’s screen, then 
when she comes I cry ‘ Boo ! ’ and she pretends 
to be scared, and catches me up and swings 
me in among the pillows, and we have the best 
time. Well, I was hiding there this morning 
when I thought I heard her coming, but it was 
n’t Sue at all, nor Virginia, it was that other 
girl, and she went right to Sue’s desk, and she 
opened the drawer with a key, and she took out 



It 


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I WAS HIDING THERE THIS MORNING 

















* 











































































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4 

































■ 


































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MISTAKEN LOYALTY 331 

a little box, and then she put in another, and 
then she went away. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I think you are mistaken about her putting 
a box in the drawer, Dolly, it was Miss Thaw, 
was it not?” 

“No, it wasn’t, Aunty, it was Martha Cut- 
ting, and I just crept right out after her, and 
she went down the hall, and down the stairs, 
’til she came to the bellboy’s room, and she put 
the box on his table, away down among some 
papers, and when she was gone I went in and 
got it, for it’s my Sue’s, and she had no busi- 
ness a-giving it to Amos,” Dolly explained, as 
she struggled to get the box out of her mite of 
a pocket. 

At last the box lay in Mrs. Hope’s hand. It 
was bright red, and upon it in raised letters 
was the word “CUBEBS.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE BEGINNING OF STJSAN 

T HE breeze of June sent shimmering ripples 
across the ivied walls of Hope Hall. 
Above the tower a flag floated, and the pillars 
of the great veranda were wound with pink and 
green, the colors of the senior class. 

Girls in dainty gowns and fluttering ribbons 
rushed to and fro, and busy teachers moved 
among them, pausing to subdue spirits that 
seemed poised too high, or to breathe courage 
into the shrinking few, who, with vacant gaze, 
muttered to themselves for the thousandth time 
the words of their oration, or hummed the va- 
grant air that threatened each moment to slip 
forever from their treacherous memory. 

“I never can do it!” groaned May Price. 
“I’d rather never be graduated than to stand 
up before that crowd. I get as far as ‘We are 
about to set sail in our little painted ships 
upon the great ocean of life,’ and then every- 
thing is black before my eyes. For pity’s sake, 
Nan, what comes next?” 

332 


THE BEGINNING OF SUSAN 333 


“ ‘ Shall we float in safety upon its mighty 
bosom, or shall we be wrecked upon its treach- 
erous shoals V ” glibly quoted Nan. “ There 
isn’t a soul in Hope Hall that doesn’t know 
it by heart, except perhaps it’s Helen Camp- 
bell, and she is so daffy over her ‘ Browning’s 
Belation to the Universe,’ that she doesn’t 
know if she is up hill or down dale. I met her 
on the stairs a minute ago and she positively 
clung to me, begging me to try to remember the 
next sentence after 4 he looms on our mental 
horizon like a Colossus of Bhodes.’ ” 

“ ‘Great King/ said she, 

‘Have mercy on me, or else my name is Mud/ ” 

chanted Sue, who was flying by. “ Cheer up, 
May, honey, I’ll mind the ‘little painted ship’ 
place; so look at me and I’ll give you a boost. 
But just breathe a prayer, please, that I don’t 
slip off the key in that last cadenza, for if I do 
my heart will be broken up into little bits.” 

“No danger of her failing,” said May, as 
Sue hurried on. “Doesn’t she sing that aria 
beautifully? I’m awfully glad Miss Gribble 
put her on the program, if she is only a Freshie. 
I don’t believe I ever saw a girl improve as 
much in every way as Sue in the last few 
months — even Miss Thaw had to admit that 


334 FROM SIOUX TO SUSAX 


yesterday, when Miss Sargent showed her Sue’s 
standing in geometry, and Sne does hate it so. ’ ’ 

“Oh, Sue’s all right; she is the most for- 
giving soul that ever breathed. Martha Cut- 
ting would have waited many a cold day before 
I should have forgiven her. ’ ’ 

When Sue had first understood that Martha 
had really plotted against her — it was so for- 
eign to her own frank and generous nature she 
found it hard to believe — she thought, too, she 
could never forgive her. But that was when 
she believed it was for the prize of music, the 
trip abroad, and Miss Gribble’s praise that 
Martha would have sacrificed her; when she 
came to see it was love of Virginia that had 
been Martha’s chief temptation, she forgave 
her at once. 

Martha was on her knees before her trunk 
when Sue, after waiting vainly for her “come 
in” opened the door. 

“0 Martha,” she began; but at first sight 
of that tear-stained face her heart melted with 
pity and she ran to her side. “Please, Martha, 
let me help,” she begged. “I can pack beauti- 
fully. You go and lie down and rest. Let me 
bathe your head and make you comfortable, do, 
Martha, dear.” 

“You . . . you . . .” gasped Mar- 


THE BEGINNING OF SUSAN 335 


tha; “why, Sue Roberts, you don’t mean you 
want to be kind to me ! Why, I ... I was 
wicked . . . Oh, Sue, I never . . .” 

“There, there, dearie,” and Sue’s arms were 
about her, holding her close, “don’t you feel 
so bad, if I’d been as good as I ought to have 
been it never could have happened. It was 
my slangy, wild ways that turned Miss Thaw 
against me, and my first disobedience that made 
Miss Hope suspicious. I’m going to try to do 
better now, so it may all turn out for the best. ’ ’ 

“For you, perhaps,” sobbed Martha; “but, 
oh, Sue, never for me. I am so ashamed, so 
disgusted with myself. Miss Hope is right, it 
was my . . . my foolish vanity and jeal- 
ousy that made me do it. I did love Virginia 
so, and she never seemed to care for anybody 
but you . . . but now she will never want 
to see me again. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes, she will, Martha,” comforted Sue. 
“Just give her a little time. She did love you 
dearly, it was only — well, you see, she was my 
parsley-girl in the very beginning. And I was 
n ’t always just to you, Martha, and Virginia 
tried to please me, but she will forgive you, I 
know she will.” 

But it was, after all, Virginia who suffered 
most through Martha’s deception. Martha her- 


336 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


self, although bitterly humiliated and ashamed 
at the time, was too egotistical to ever see the 
real depths to which she had fallen. Sue, with 
her usual buoyancy, soon rebounded, and while 
the affair had made a lasting impression upon 
her character, it was perhaps the presence of 
Virginia’s silent suffering that sank deepest 
into her heart. 

It took Miss Hope a long time to draw from 
reticent Virginia the real reason for her ex- 
traordinary conduct. She had felt, she ad- 
mitted at last, that her expulsion would make 
no great difference to any one. Her father 
would consider the cigarette smoking a girlish 
freak, and Thad would only he amused over the 
whole matter, while Sue’s disgrace would bring 
real anguish to the loving hearts at Cherry- 
fair, to whom Virginia felt she owed so much, 
beside, knowing that Sue was innocent, yet 
having no idea who had done the cruel trick, 
her one thought had been to save Sue at all 
cost. 

“My child,” Miss Hope had said, taking the 
cold little hands in hers, “there is one lesson 
we all must learn : one should never do wrong, 
believing good will come of it. We may only 
do right, leaving the result to God.” 

Even after Virginia knew Martha was to 


THE BEGINNING OF SUSAN 337 


be sent away, she found it hard to forgive. 
But when she saw Martha enter the carriage 
that was to take her from Hope Hall forever, 
Virginia’s heart melted, and flying out to the 
carriage she sprang upon the step. 

“I forgive you with my whole heart,” she 
whispered, kissing Martha tenderly, “and I 
hope you will be happy in your new school. 
Good-by, good-by!” 

But now Hope Hall had reached its com- 
mencement time, and every one was in gala 
dress and gala mood, and all the troubles of 
the year were in the past. 

Virginia’s Aunt Sibyl had decided to run 
over from Monroe to say good-by to her, as 
Virginia was to go on at once to New York to 
see her father, who had returned from his long 
trip the week before. Mrs. Marshall said 
nothing of the great surprise she had for the 
girls, so when she arrived with Thad, well, 
strong and sunburned, there had been a great 
jubilee in Number 21. And Sue, since they 
couldn’t wait for Virginia to write a verse for 
the occasion, insisted that “Whoopsy saw, sine 
craw” be sung then and there. 

The graduating exercises passed off beauti- 
fully, in spite of dark prophesies. To be sure, 
May did stumble over her little painted ships, 


338 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


but Sue, true to her word, gave her an en- 
couraging nod, and formed so plainly with her 
lips '/shall we float in safety,” that nobody but 
the two girls ever knew of the awful moment. 
Sue herself swept down her cadenza in fine 
style, and Helen settled Browning’s place in the 
universe in a blaze of glory. 

Some hours later when Hope Hall was radi- 
ant with lights and tuneful with music and the 
hum of many voices, Sue and Thad sat on the 
stair together to enjoy an ice, and watch the 
pretty scene. 

"It has been a beautiful year, in spite of its 
troubles, has n ’t it, Thad ? ’ ’ asked Sue, waving 
a gay salute to happy May, who passed down 
the hall on her father’s arm. 

"The best of my life,” agreed Thad, "when 
I think what a flunk I was in when I found I 
wasn’t going to college this year it makes me 
laugh. Why, Sue, I’ve gained points with 
those men, not theories, you know, but real, 
practical knowledge that I shouldn’t have got- 
ten in my whole college course.” 

"And now you are back’ so well and strong! 
I guess, Thad, God always knows what’s best 
for us. I thought I was coming to Hope Hall 
to study music and geometry, but I have found 
the hardest thing was to govern myself, and I 






\ 


TELL HER 


THAD,” WHISPERED VIRGINIA 













THE BEGINNING OF SUSAN 341 

have a good deal to learn in that branch yet.” 

“I rather miss the old Sioux, with her florid 
speeches, though, ’ ’ laughed Thad. “I’m afraid 
of this dignified Susan.” 

“You needn’t be; for, alas, I haven’t lost all 
my picturesque language. I find it isn’t the 
easiest thing in the world to forget. And I’m 
not really Susan, I’m just beginning to be.” 

“You see,” said Thad, showing her his watch 
fob, “I still carry the key, though, I believe, 
you refuse to wear my bracelet.” 

“Oh, no,” laughed Sue, holding out her 
hand that he might see, “I’ve got it on to-night. 
Don’t you tell a soul, hut Virginia sewed it on 
with a good, strong thread, for I just wouldn’t 
have the thing locked — couldn’t get my breath 
if the key turned, Thad.” 

“Queer old girl; I don’t know but I like you 
all the better for it. You’ll settle down some 
day, Sue, and never mind the padlock, see if 
you don’t.” 

“I don’t believe it. I can’t imagine myself 
doing anything but dancing along at my own 
sweet will. But isn’t it lovely, Thad, about 
father? He’s back from Mexico, so much bet- 
ter that the doctor says he need not give up his 
preaching entirely, and he’s doing splendid 
work in a mission in Chicago.” 


342 


FROM SIOUX TO SUSAN 


“And Cherryfair, Aunt Sibyl tells me, is de- 
serted.’ ’ 

“Yes, that was hard; but Mandy went with, 
them, and Masie writes they have a house on a 
dear old square, and they are learning to love 
their new home almost as much as Cherryfair. 
Of course, you know I am not coming back to 
Hope Hall next year. Whatever shall I do 
without Virginia, that is what I’m wondering?” 

“Tell her, Thad,” whispered Virginia, who 
had just joined them, settling down like a little 
pink cloud among her ruffles at Sue’s feet, “tell 
her, it’s too good to keep.” 

“I don’t know, Nixie, whether Sue will con- 
sider it very good news or not; but the truth 
is, Sue, Dr. Yoder has accepted a professor- 
ship in the Chicago University, and, as he is 
taking a great deal of interest in me, father 
has decided I would better go there next year.” 

“And, oh, Sue!” cried Virginia, “I’m to go 
to visit you both at Christmas time, and — ” 

“Well,” sighed Sue rapturously, “I can only 
say with Betty, i I always thought we had the 
most beautiful things happen to us a family 
ever did, and now I know it. ’ ” 

THE END 


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